Crash
by McGeeklover
Summary: He was so exhausted and so fed up with Dean that he had to get some air. He knew it was dangerous to go out on the road when he was about ready to pass out but like I said; he was fed up with Dean. Now he's risking his life; he didn't even see the truck.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Hey everyone! Now I know I promised this story for you guys and I will get right on it but first…DID ANYONE C LAST NIGHTS EPISODE! SO FRICKEN AWESOME! The funny thing was that Sam actually fell asleep at the wheel and I was like if he actually got hit, I woulda been pissed cause then I wouldn't have been able to write this story cause then that would be copying and it would just be boring so I was like 'whew!' when Sam woke up just in time to move the car outta the way! So, this story is from my brain and, now, a little bit from "Out with the Old," kinda but Sam looks like he was back in season 1 cause I like how he looks that way:). BTW I can't wait for next week's episode, can you?**

Sam Winchester sat at his laptop yawning, as the bright light of the LED screen boring into his eyes- which he could barely keep open. He and Dean were at another crappy, stuffed up motel, and for some reason it was taking a toll on his health. He felt nauseous, fevered and most of all, tired, but he couldn't stop researching; he was just about done with his brother, because for about a week- which was a week too long- they had no strange reporting's of the supernatural. So that meant driving around together, eating together, and being in a number of motels together non-stop _without_ a hunting break. They haven't gotten any space from each other whatsoever and it was killing the both of them. Sam was just about to murder Dean. Sam blinked away from the screen, adjusting to the semi-darkness and looked over to Dean who was currently snoring away on his bed. Sam scowled as he shook his head and returned his gaze back to the computer. He scrolled and clicked and scrolled some more; still nothing. _What the hell! Where is the action? I'm going to murder my brother if we don't get another hunting gig._ Sniffing and clearing his dry throat, Sam wiped his face in exhaustion and slammed the laptop shut. The loud gesture, thought, immediately woke Dean up, and Sam grinned evilly.

"Sam what the hell; why are you making so much noise? I'm trying to friggin' sleep, man!" Dean yelled angrily as he sat up.

"Oh, sorry, I wasn't trying to wake you up, I'll be more careful next time, Deany-baby," Sam said sarcastically, turning around to face his pissed off brother.

Dean clenched his jaw and he stood up angrily, making his way over to Sam and picking him up by the collar. "I swear to god, if you call me that one more time, I'll-"

"You'll do what, Dean? What will you do to your little brother?"

Dean huffed as he shoved his brother against the wall and turned away from him, rubbing a hand through his tussled, spiky hair.

"I swear to god, I going to fucking kill you if I have to spend another night with you," muttered Dean.

"What was that? Say it to my face and don't be a coward, Deany-" began Sam tauntingly.

"Don't! I warning you, if you say it, you're going to regret it."

"Bay-be-e-e."

"That's it!" Dean growled. He came at Sam at a surprisingly fast pace and in seconds, his clenched fist came in contact with his brother's jaw.

Sam's neck snapped back with impact, his hand reflectively shot up to his face and cradled the injury. Tears threatened to fall, but he didn't want to give Dean a chance to come up with a cheesy nickname for him either. Both he and his brother's breathing were heavy and laced with rage, staring daggers at one another. Sam clenched his throbbing jaw and looked at his brother for another moment. Dean stared back with, almost, challenging eyes, daring Sam to take a swing at him. He blinked rapidly, trying to rid the oncoming tears; who knew how hard it would be to hold them in. He had to leave; he needed fresh air before he did something he regretted.

Sam huffed, and snatched the Impala's keys from the table, heading for the door.

"And just where do you think you're going with my car?"

"Out. I need some fresh air."

"Like hell you are, you can walk, but there is no way in_ hell_ that you driving my car!"

"Oh, yeah? Watch me." Sam snarled. He made a beeline for the door and quickly slammed it in Dean's face before he could follow him. Sam bolted to the Impala, and shoved the keys into the ignition just in time to see his really pissed off brother swing open the door and start coming for him.

"Sam! You get your ass outta my car right now!"

Sam grinned mischievously and put the car in drive, quickly spinning around in the parking lot and stepped on the gas. In seconds, he was on the road, Dean attempting and failing to chase after him. Sam laughed as he turned a corner, but not before he saw Dean in the rearview mirror, flipping his middle finger at him. Rolling his eyes, he turned down the interstate and heaved a sigh. He just stole his brother's car, now he really didn't want to go back to the hotel; who knows what Dean has planned. Sam sighed again and shook his head, trying to keep himself alert. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he was going back to his normal, tired and sick feeling self. He pressed on the gas, hoping the loud sound of the engine and the bumpy road would keep him awake, but it didn't work. He put turned the radio up to the max, but it just made his ears bleed, and remind him of his brother- who he really hated at the moment. Turning it off, Sam yawned loudly and his eyes began to droop miraculously. Why the hell did this have to happen now of all places? Every second he closed his eyes, Sam felt himself veer off to the right, causing him to jolt awake and get his hands back on the steering wheel. Maybe he should turn back. This was really dangerous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was pissed with a capital 'P,' at his asshole of a brother. He just stole his fucking car; his precious car. Who knows what Sam would do to her. He shuddered at the thought, and shaking it out of his head. When Sam got back, he was going to murder the little bitch; Dean could not _wait_ to get his hands on him. Instead of going inside, he sat on a little green bench near the entrance and waited. He would be right there when Sam came driving back in with a little smug smirk on his face. It would immediately be wiped off when he saw Dean, though; he was going to be scared out of his panties.

"I hope you die," muttered Dean to no one in particular, but directed it to Sam. He didn't really mean it, but he was infuriated like crazy and he was ready to kill anyone or anything. Dean took a deep breath and leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms tightly. Now all he had to do was wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had turned around to head back for the motel at a great speed; as much as he didn't want to and as much as he feared Dean right now, he had to go back and rest before he…before he…Sam jolted awake again, not even recalling that he'd closed his eyes. He was almost there, just a couple more miles to go and he would be safe; well somewhat safe, he'd still have to deal with Dean. Sam yawned and felt his eyes getting heavy once again; he couldn't hold on to consciousness any longer. His eyes closed and his hands slipped from the steering wheel and his head lolling to the side. He was so oblivious that he never even noticed that his car was veering into the other lane or that a blue semi was coming at full speed, blaring his horn. But it was unnoticed by Sam, he was already out cold; even if he did wake up. He was never going to move his car away in time, and the truck wasn't going to be able to stop fast enough. Sam and his life were finished. Maybe Dean should be more careful what he wishes for.

**TBC.**

**Do you like it so far, well besides that Sam may or may not die? I was going to have him hit a tree, but in this story he's going like 45-50 mph and I watched a crash test dummy video and the tree literally almost sliced right through the car, and like I mentioned before, I don't do main character death fic's :) Well anyways, next chapter will be up soon, I just wanted to get this up before anyone else did something like it. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter 2 **

**Thanks for all the story/review alerts and fav stories/author alerts; you've really made my day :) Here's the next chapter, enjoy!**

Dean looked at his watch for the fifteenth time in ten minutes. Sam had been gone for almost half an hour, and as much as he was still angry with his little brother, he began to grow worried. He was developing a gut feeling that something bad was going to happen. _Where the hell is that kid? It usually doesn't take him this long to cool off._ He, himself, began to lose his adrenaline and his brotherly instinct began to kick in. He glanced at his watch once more before standing up in frustration and digging out his phone from his back pocket. Dialing Sam's number, he waited for a ring, but instead it went straight to voicemail.

"Dammit, Sammy, answer the phone!" Dean growled as he tried again, but still he got voicemail. "Where the hell are you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Impala drew closer and closer to truck, and Sam showed no signs of waking up. The truck's deafening horn kept beeping in hopes to get the driver's attention, but it wasn't working. The driver of the semi had no choice but to _try_ and stop the truck before it hit the car. He slammed on the breaks the wheels locking and the tires screeching on the road, but the truck was still driving at a immense speed. In seconds, the truck collided with the front of the Impala and twisted it around, the impact going more towards the driver's side. Both cars screeched down the road as the truck was still forcing it back. Metal was crunching, glass was shattering and during the whole thing, Sam was unaware of what was going on; not because he was sleeping, but because he was currently unconscious. The blow of the collision connected dangerously with his head and many other places that could be fatal for a human. Finally, after what seemed like twenty minutes, the skidding stopped and both vehicles were immobile; the air was cold and silent besides the sound of the drizzle that just started up.

Immediately, the truck driver, known as Larry Franks, jumped out of the automobile and ran towards the, now, destroyed car.

"Oh god! Oh my god what have I done? Sir, are you- oh no." The truck driver stopped in his tracks when he came across the demolished vehicle. The person inside was just a kid. Well he looked like one, but he probably was in his early twenties. The kid's face was all bloodied, scratched and battered. Bruises were already starting to form across his jaw and his left eye was swollen shut. Worst of all, a piece of glass was stick out of the kid's side, right under his ribs, and blood was flowing out of the wound. _Dammit_. "Hey, kid can you hear me?" All of sudden, he noticed that the kid's chest was immobile and that not one sound was coming out of this kid's slack mouth or bleeding nose.

"Oh no, I'm gonna lose my job for this! I fucking killed someone!" Larry cried as he straightened up and ran a hand through his damp black hair.

"Damn, Damn, Dammit!" Larry looked nervously up and down the street. It was clear of any cars or pedestrians, so no one had witnesses anything; he could get away before anyone noticed. Breathing heavily, Larry ran back to his truck, put it in drive and went around the accident, speeding off and pretending that nothing had happened. The kid was already dead, so it wasn't like he was leaving him _to_ die, right? If he had been hanging onto life, he would have called an ambulance and _maybe_ he would have stayed. If he was caught, though, his life would be over. Looking back in the rearview mirror, he saw the smoldering car once more before turning a corner and disappearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean paced back and forth in front of the bench, the rain coming down harder and drenching his clothes. Now he was really scared; something was nagging him and he couldn't help feel that something had really happened to his brother. Scenes ran though his head making him feel even worse. Demons, angry spirits, even vampires could have done something to his baby brother. Dean was just about to call Sam again when he heard a huge explosion about half a mile down the road. Dean looked up and frowned as his heart panged in his chest; his subconscious was telling him to go check it out, because…well it didn't tell him why, but just that he needed to hurry. Pocketing his cell, Dean began running toward the blast, hoping that it wasn't as bad as he imagined it.

As he got closer, he could, both, see and smell smoke billowing into the air. His heart raced faster and harder, and it wasn't just from running. Finally, Dean turned the corner and his blood stopped cold. _No,_ _it couldn't be. This couldn't be happening._ There was a lone car in the middle of the road that was erupting in flames. Smoke was filling the air and the smell of burnt tires and metal wafted into Dean's nose. He moved closer to the wreck, praying and praying that this wasn't the Impala; not just because it was his _car_, but because Sam was driving it and Sam was nowhere to be seen. Running up to the burning and crackling car, he breathed heavily in fear and realization; it was the Impala. _Shit!_

"Sam!" Dean hollered out desperately into the car, his voice echoing into the rainy night. "Sammy answer me!" Dean sniffed as he covered his mouth with his sleeve as he tried to move closer to the car. "Sam!" Still no response. The flames snapped loudly, causing Dean to step back; he couldn't find his brother. He actually hoped that Sam had torched the car in anger and then walked back to the motel. Sure he would be angry as hell, but at least his brother would be alive. It was either that or his brother was in the car, burning alive and he really hoped that wasn't the case.

"Sammy!"

**Sorry for the cliffhanger :) I promise I'll get the next chapter up soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and its characters :(**

**Enjoy!**

"Sam!" Dean coughed, tears trailing down his cheeks. This could _not_ be happening; this had to be some type of joke or dream. He fell to his knees and looked into the scorching orange fire. The thought of his brother being in there made Dean sick to his stomach. He also felt that this was partially his fault. Maybe if he didn't propel his brother over the edge and cause him to leave, then maybe they would still be in the motel room, sleeping peacefully. Or maybe if he didn't wish his brother dead; no not maybe, if he never did make that wish in the first place, if would of never have come true. _Dammit, Dean, how could you be so stupid and careless?_

"Oh god, Sammy. I'm so sorry."

**10 Minutes Earlier**

Sam snapped open his good eye and gasped. He began to breathe rapidly and blinked around to see where the hell even was. It was dark and smoky, but he could hear the soft patter of rain against the…car? How did he end up in a car? Come to think of it, the car looked a lot like the…Impala. _Shit._

"Dean is going to murder me," thought Sam as he saw how destroyed the vehicle was. _Why was it like this again and why the _hell_ do I hurt so much?_ Sam frowned as he tried to shift his position, but the moment he did, pain shot through his entire body causing him to whimper faintly. His face, more so his nose hurt the most for some reason so Sam unsteadily reached up to his nose and traced the crooked nose lightly. Yep, it was definitely broken. He stopped moving, and took a deep, painful breath. That's when he saw it; a large piece of glass was lodged into his side making it harder to breathe. He gasped in alarm as he saw this and immediately went to pull it out. He knew that it was probably not the best thing to do, but it hurt like a bitch and he wasn't really thinking straight.

Gradually, he inched the shard out of his flesh, wincing, gasping, and crying during the process. In a few minutes, he tugged the glass out with a shaky hand and it made some sort of sucking noise when it was removed. Tears flowed out of his tightly closed eyes, but he knew he should suck it up and stop being a baby. That's what Dad and Dean would say, right? But he couldn't hold it in; everything in his entire body was pulsing with agony. He threw the glass onto the passenger seat and took a deep breath, leaning his head on the headrest and drained, completely, of all energy. Suddenly, despite his slightly broken nose, Sam could make out the faint smell of gas. The car was going to explode and if he didn't get out soon, he was going to be toast…literally.

Carefully unbuckling his…his seatbelt wasn't even on. _You idiot, Sam!_ Sam cautiously twisted his body towards the driver's door and slowly opened it, the loud creaking and grinding of the metal agitating his throbbing head. He swung it forwards and he fell out of the seat, landing roughly onto the glass covered road and causing him to cry out in anguish. _Come on Sammy, you can do this._ Sam shakily raised himself onto his hands and knees, his arms trembling violently in weakness as he sluggishly struggled over the grassy side of the road. By the time he reached the shoulder, he collapsed, his face meeting the cold, wet grass. Immediately after, he heard the deafening sound of an explosion behind him, sparks and chunks of the Impala landing next to him. That was the last thing he heard clearly before the darkness started to overtake him. But, for some reason, he thought he could hear a faint voice calling his name. Must have been his imagination, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sammy! Answer me, dammit!" Dean sobbed angrily. He stood up and angrily wiped the tears off of his damp face and turned around, putting his hands on his head. All of a sudden, something caught his eye and his heart beat briskly in hope. _Could it be?_ He ran to the side of the road and sure enough it was…

"Oh god, no. Sam!"

Dean fell harshly next to his brother's battered form and shook him gently. His clothes were soaked to the skin and he was covered in bruises, cuts, and blood; so much blood.

"Sammy, oh god."

He rolled his brother onto his back and lifted him up carefully, cradling him in his arms. That's when he saw it; the huge tear in Sam's shirt, revealing the massive gash in his right side.

"No, no, this can't be happening. Don't do this Sam. Don't you _dare_ do this to me."

He looked over his brother's body, his gaze moving across Sam's face. It didn't even look like Sam anymore; his left eye was swollen and black and his pasty face looked like he'd fallen face first into a pit of knives.

"Son of a bitch, Sam," Dean muttered as he held on tighter to Sam with one arm, dug out his cell and dialed 911. In seconds, he finished the call and tossed the phone aside, not even caring if it got wet. It wasn't as important as his brother; he could replace the phone, but he could _never _replace Sam. He resumed his tight grip on his brother and sniffed. All of sudden, he felt Sam shift a little in his hold.

"Sam? Come on, kid, you gotta open your eyes for me…please."

Finally after, what seemed like, forever, Dean saw his brother's left eye flutter open and look up at him tiredly.

"D-De-ean?" Sam said weakly.

"Yeah, it's me buddy. How are you feeling?" He knew it was a ridiculous question to ask when it was clear as day that his brother was far from feeling okay, but it was just one of those things you say.

"Like shit," Sam wheezed, grabbing the front of Dean's jacket weakly.

Dean chuckled, but quickly sobered up. "You're gonna be okay, Sammy, just hold on, alright?"

"D-Dean, I'm sor-sorry for fight- figh-"

"I know, champ, me too. Just save your breath and don't speak."

Sam nodded and coughed, his eyes squeezing shut in pain.

"Breathe through it Sam. I got you, you're okay."

"D-Dean," Sam grimaced.

"I know, Sam, I know it hurts."

"N-No, y-your car. It's r-ruined, I'm s-sor-sorry."

"I don't care about that right now. I can fix her, I can't fix you."

Sam chuckled softly. "That's r-really ch-cheesy, Dean."

"Ha, you're right, that was pretty lame," Dean smiled through the tears and raindrops.

Sam smiled, but it disappeared when another wave of pain crashed over him causing him to grunt feebly.

"Dean-"

"Don't Sam, I know what you're thinking and it's not going to happen, okay. We're gonna get you patched up and I'm gonna do my job: take care of you, alright? I'm gonna take care of you. Just hang on, help's on the way."

Sam shivered, the shock and fear taking over as he gripped Dean's jacket even tighter. He looked up into his brother's hazel- green eyes and Dean could instantly see the panic and pain flashing through them.

"Don't you dare, Sam! Don't you fucking dare give up and leave me!"

Sam gave Dean one last look and opened his mouth to say something.

"D-De-" but his breath caught in his throat, the discomfort and unconsciousness taking over. His firm grasp on Dean's soaked jacket slackened and his arm fell limply to the ground. His head lolled to the left, away from his brother, left eye closing and his breathing silenced.

"Sammy? Sam. Come on, Sam don't do this!" But Sam remained motionless.

"Oh, god….Oh, god. Sam, come on, look at me!" He cried gently grabbing onto his brother's face and turning it towards him.

"Sam! You can't give up, you hear me? You can't leave me here by myself! I'm going to take good care of you alright, it's my job, but you have to wake up, okay? Hey! Sam, listen to me; it's just you and me remember? You and me against the supernatural world, huh? I can't do anything without my pain-in-the-ass, whiny emo bitch little brother, right? Sam. Sammy! Oh, god this can't be happening. Sam, please," Dean's voice cracked with emotion.

Suddenly he heard the wailing sirens in the distance, getting closer and closer with every second that passed by.

"You hear that, Sammy?" Dean said, wiping the rain off of Sam's ashen face as much as he could. "You're gonna be okay, alright? You don't have my permission to die; I can't lose my little brother. Sam. Sam!" Dean sniffed and he wiped his nose with his wet sleeve. He ran a hand across his eyes, wiping the rain out of them; they might have also been tears, but he didn't even care enough to notice. All he cared about was Sam. Gently, he lifted his brother's head up and placed it against his chest. He took a deep, shuddering breath and ran his hand through Sam's drenched hair and he placed his face on the top of Sam's head.

"You're gonna be okay, Sam," he whispered, shivering intensely in the freezing cold rain. "You're gonna be alright."

**TBC.**

** I feel like this chapter sounds a lot like the AHBL ending (which made me bawl my eyes out), but I, in no way, own Supernatural. :( Comments are appreciated**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**OMG can't wait til Friday! :)**

Dean stood motionless and cross armed against the wall of the depressing waiting room. He stared blankly into space and ignoring the buzzing and bumbling of the nurses around him. His eyes felt dry and sore from crying, and now he was drained from all of his tears in his body. He couldn't cry anymore, because nothing was left; just the empty feeling in his chest. Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly and took a deep quivering breath. This was probably one of the worst nights he's ever had in his entire life. He didn't even know if his mother's death or his father's death could match up to this. He was supposed to take care of Sam, not wish him dead. He mentally punched himself for being so selfish and stupid. All because of a fucking wish, he might just lose his baby brother.

He thought back to a few hours ago when he was still holding a dying- or maybe even dead- Sam in his arms. He was so numb from the intense cold rain that he didn't even feel the paramedic touch his arm. He only noticed that they arrived when one of them tried to pry his brother's body out of his embrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_"No! I'm not letting go of him!" Dean yelled, gripping tighter onto Sam. Maybe if he didn't let go, Sam would be alright and none of this would be real._

_ "Sir, he's going to be in good hands, but you need to step back so we can get him to the hospital!"_

_ Sammy doesn't like hospitals. He'll kill me when he wakes up later. "I-I can't leave h-him…I _w-won't_ leave him!"_

_ "Sir, you're going to make him worse!" Another paramedic yelled over the loud rain and sirens. "If he stays out here any longer, he's going to catch hypothermia!"_

_ Dean looked up from his unconscious brother and at the paramedics. He hesitated for a second; he didn't want to cause any more harm to Sam then he already had._

_ Fine," Dean growled and reluctantly released his brother into the hands of the paramedics. They stepped in immediately, bandaging, bracing and cleaning his brother's broken form. _

_ In 30 seconds flat, they had Sam on the gurney and wheeled into the ambulance. Dean quickly ran up to the vehicle and looked at the two men desperately._

_ "C-Can I ride with him?" He shivered._

_ "Sir-"_

_ "P-Please…he's my brother. He's all I got."_

_ The paramedic, known as Walker Doyle, looked sadly at the red eyed, pale face man._

_ "Alright, hop in," he said, not wanting to waste any more time. "But if something happens and we need you to move, you move, got it?"_

_ Dean nodded dully as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_ The ambulance sped around corners and down slick wet roads. Dean sat near his brother's head, stroking his face gently with one hand and held Sam's cold damp one with the other. Dean looked at him wearily, seeing the only sign of Sam being alive was the fog that showed up on the oxygen mask every time he breathed in and out. If it wasn't there he would've thought Sam was dead._

_ "You gotta pull through, man, for me, or I swear I'll…" Dean stopped to clear his throat and rubbed a hand across his mouth. "Listen to me, Sammy, I know this is difficult and I know it hurts a hell of a lot, but…if you die I…I can't do anything without you. If you leave me I'll end up dying myself, because I…I'll stop caring. You…you and Dad are the most important people in my life. Dad's gone and I only got you…and Bobby, but he's nothing like you. So you keep fighting, dammit!" Dean said through clenched teeth as he squeezed Sam's hand tightly and moved his bangs back and out of Sam's face._

_SPN_SPN_SPN_SPN_SPN_SPN_

_ Walker watched sadly at how defeated the older man was over his brother. The guy really cared about the kid, and he was unlike any brother he ever had or met. Suddenly, the machines around them started going off wildly. Walker, the conscious brother and his partner, Brandon, looked up in alarm and saw that the kid's O2 level was dropping tremendously._

_ "Dammit," Walker muttered. "Sir, we're going to need you to move out of the way so we can help your brother."_

_ Dean sighed heavily, but let go of Sam's hand and moved aside, watching in horror as Sam's heartbeat started to deteriorate._

_ "No, no, no, Sam didn't you listen to me? You can't leave me, man, please don't give up!"_

_ Without warning, the heart monitor went flat and Dean's heart dropped to his feet. His brother was dead, but that might not have been the worst thing. All of a sudden, he saw something flicker in the corner of his eye. When he turned, he gasped; he saw something that he never wished he see in his entire life. Sam's spirit. _Son of a god damn bitch!_ Sam's spirit looked at his immobile body and then up at Dean._

_ "Sam!"_

_ "Charge to 200!" Yelled Brandon. "Clear!" Sam's body jerked up and at the same time his spirit went rigid. As if he came back for a split second, but stopped breathing again._

_ "Come on, Sammy, fight! Just do it for me, please, just fight."_

_ Sam looked at him and frowned, but nodded before looking at his own body once more._

_ "260! Come on kid, you can do this. Clear!" Sam's body convulsed again and this time, his spirit disappeared and the heart monitor started up again._

_ "Thank god," Both Walker and Dean whispered. _

_ For the rest of the ride, Dean was unable to stay near Sam, because the paramedics needed to be closer in case Sam…in case his heart stopped again; and Dean hoped to the almighty God that it would never happen _ever_ again._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

**Present**

"Kid," a gruff voice said as they softly touched Dean on the shoulder.

Dean flinched a little, but otherwise kept his stare to the double doors where a doctor would come out and tell him Sammy was okay and that he could go home tomorrow.

"Bobby," he said flatly.

"How's Sam?"

"I wouldn't know. No one in the damn place will tell me a fucking thing."

Bobby looked warily at the younger man; he looked like shit. His eyes were red and puffy along with his face that was sallow and ill-looking. When he'd gotten the dreadful call from Dean, he sounded…sad and exhausted. Dean rarely ever sounded like that. The kid wasn't looking good at all.

"Dean, why don't you sit down, get some rest. I'll-"

"Not happening."

"Dean-"

"I'm not going anywhere, Bobby. I'm not moving from this spot until I know Sam's okay!"

Bobby looked at Dean with a slightly hurt expression, but he couldn't blame the kid. Sam was his brother, and he could hardly imagine what he was going through right now. Dean's chest heaved with rage as he returned his look back towards the doors. Bobby sighed and shook his head, turning around.

"I'll just…go get some coffee."

Bobby left the room and Dean sighed, looking after him. He felt guilty for yelling at the man who was like a second father to him, but right now the only thing he cared about was Sam and Sam only.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It seemed like hours before Dean actually got some news. The coffee that Bobby had got him a while ago was untouched and, probably, cold. He wasn't hungry or thirsty anyways; if he consumed anything at the moment, he'd feel even sicker than he already did.

"Family of Sam Tucker?"

Dean opened his eyes…wait, when did he fall asleep? He shook his head; it didn't matter, he was finally getting answers on Sammy.

"Right here," said Dean clearing his throat. "I'm his brother, Dean."

"Great, um, could you please follow me to my office so we could talk?"

"No. Whatever you're going to tell me in there can be said right here," Dean snapped.

"I understand how you're feeling right now, Dean, but-"

"No you don't know how I feel! Please, just tell me if he's…if he's…" Dean stopped to take a deep breath and washed a hand down his face while putting the other one on his hip. "Is he still alive?"

"Yes, Mr. Tucker, he's alive, but it would be better if we talk in my office. I have a lot to explain about your brother's condition."

"Fine, whatever."

Dean sat down in the seat provided and folded his hands on his lap.

"You're brother, Mr. Tucker, is in critical condition; now the things I'm about to tell you are going to be shocking, but I'm just-"

"Yeah whatever, can you just please get on with it?" Dean said in a trembling voice.

The doctor sighed and nodded, looking down at his papers.

"Sam has sustained moderate TBC, along with-"

"Wait. What the hell is TBC?"

"Traumatic Brain Injury."

"W-what- what is it doing to him?"

"Well, we can't be sure until he wakes up, but the usual symptoms include headaches, memory loss, dizziness, loss of consciousness, seizures-"

"Seizure? Oh god," Dean faltered. "Dammit, Sammy."

The doctor looked at Dean sadly and, hating to be the bearer of bad news, he wasn't even finished with the poor kid's list of injuries.

"He also has suffered bruised kidneys, six broken ribs, massive blood loss, several contusions to the abdominal and face, first degree burns to his arms, a perforated intestine and right lung; along with minor injuries like a broken nose and a sprained wrist."

Dean sat forward in the chair, his face void of all color, his lower lip trembling and his eyes welling up with tears. There was no way- no, Sam was going to live. He had to.

"Are- are you done?"

"Unfortunately, no; the punctured lung Sam acquired caused him to have difficulty breathing and to make sure he doesn't stop, we have him on a ventilator. We also have to watch out for infections, mostly to his kidney, stab wound and burns."

Dean let out a big shaky breath. Oh god, Sam, why did this have to happen to you of all people? "Um, I know it- it sounds bad, but, uh, is he going to be okay? He's going to live right?"

"To be honest, Dean," the doctor began in a very serious tone, "I don't think your brother will make it through the night."

Dean's heart stopped, his blood running cold. His while body went numb and he felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. How did it get to be this bad?

"I think it'd be best if you said your goodbyes."

**TBC :)**

** OMG I'm so evil aren't I. So when I was writing this and getting all the complications and injuries for Sam I showed my friends and I was like "with these injuries this kid is going to die!" and my friend was like "no shit! You should just have him die instead of having him suffer," and I was like no way in hell am I killing this kid, but like in real like, someone with this many injuries would either die or be in the hospital for the rest of his life."**

** Anyways, I **_**won't**_** kill Sam and Dean **_**will**_** find the guy who did this to his baby brother. Review like always; the next chapter will be up soon :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**OMG Tomorrow's getting so close haha! I can't wait til 9pm also I can't wait til 10 and 11 tmrw morning because SPN is on TNT! LUV THIS SHOW!**

Dean left the office and headed solemnly back to the waiting room. This was infuriating; Sam was dying, the fucking doctor told him that Sam was dying! _Dammit!_ He couldn't even see the kid right now, because the nurses had to get Sam settled down in the CCU. Getting back to the waiting room, he saw Bobby sitting in the plastic chair before him. When the older man spotted him, he jumped up and jogged over to him.

"Dean-"

But instead of stopping, Dean ignored Bobby and stalked right past him, his jaw grinding in anger. Bringing back his clenched fist, Dean swung it forwards into the ugly beige wall. He didn't even care if he scared the other patients in the room, dented the wall, or broke the skin over his knuckles. He. Did. Not. Care.

"Dean, boy, what's the matter with ya?"

Dean grabbed his spiky hair in his fists and fell gradually to his knees. His water supply had completely replenished itself and more tears ran down his puffy cheeks. This was his entire fault; Sam was practically _dead_, because of him.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Asked Bobby, worried about the way Dean was acting. He bent down and placed a gentle hand on the kid's back while waiting for an answer.

"He's not gonna make it, Bobby. Doc said Sam's not gonna make it through tonight."

Bobby stood up angrily. "The hell he ain't!"

"Huh?"

"Sam's not going to stop fighting, Dean; you know how stubborn he can be. He loves you and he'll keep hanging on, because he knows if he doesn't you'd kick his ass."

Dean chuckled faintly, "Yeah I would." He sighed and wiped the tears from his face harshly. Standing up with the help of Bobby as he cradled his throbbing hand, Dean looked at the older man and smiled.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, and you better hope to god you don't get sued for that ding in the wall."

"Huh, me too."

Suddenly, a hot looking brunette nurse came over to them with a flashing white smile. Normally, Dean would try and hit on her and then maybe take her back to the hotel room or her place. Normally, Sam would roll his eyes and put on his best 'bitch' face when Dean did this. Dean would shake his head, say that he's just jealous and then leave with the girl. But this wasn't 'normally.' Nothing was normal since the day their mother died.

"Are you two here for Sam Tucker?"

"Yes we are. Are we able to see him now?" Asked Bobby kindly.

The brunette smiled and motioned for them to follow her down the hall. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as the three sauntered down the hallways of the hospital, every step making Dean sweat even more. He was nervous and fearful of what he would see. The way the doctor named off all those horrible injuries just made it sound…well sound horrifying. He felt cold and sick to his stomach; Sam was fading and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He absolutely hated himself right now; everything was his giant screw-up.

When they reached the room Sam was currently occupying, the nurse let Dean and Bobby go ahead of her.

"Now, before you go in there, I must warn you; he's extremely weak and fragile, so be gentle. If anything goes wrong, press the button above his bed, okay?"

"Thanks darlin'" Bobby smiled as the nurse opened the door. At first Dean didn't step in; Bobby didn't even think Dean knew the door was open. He caught the kid staring up at Sam's name plate next to the door. Dean looked up at the name plate bleakly. _God! His name never would have been up there if-_

"Dean!" Bobby shouted, shaking Dean's shoulder.

"What?"

"Aren'tcha going in?"

Dean looked at the open door and blinked. "Oh…yeah." He stepped inside the room, but immediately, as he took in his brother's condition, his knees started to go weak and he began his speedy decent to the cold, sterilized floor.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy Dean," said Bobby as he caught the younger man under the arms. "You're okay."

Bobby lifted Dean back onto his feet and dragged him onto the nearest chair.

"Hey Dean, can you hear me, kid?"

Dean was pale as a ghost and his whole body was quaking violently. He almost felt like puking, but he swallowed it back down. It was bad enough Sam was stuck in this damn place; he didn't need to be trapped here also.

"Dean?"

"I-I need some air." Dean stood up, wobbled a bit, but regained his balance and hastily left the room.

Bobby sighed; that kid was broken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean sat outside on a nearby bench, his head in his trembling hands. The storm had cleared up and the air smelled like rain. It was so stupid how the weather wasn't matching with his emotions. The gods got it right the first time when he was holding Sam, but now it was calm and happy. Nothing about how he was feeling was calm or happy.

Dean thought back on how Sam looked; Sam should _never_ have to look that way! He wished that he could take it all back, that he never wished his brother dead, that he never punched Sam in the face, or had the fight, that he never drove Sam to the brink in the first place. He wanted so desperately to restart this whole day, let alone this whole month, but he knew it could never be undone. What was said was said, and what was done was done. Unless…unless he sold his soul again, but Sam would be pissed that Dean had done that to himself…again, for his account. Not to mention Bobby would, no doubt, strangle him.

Dean sighed and looked up into the starry night. He never usually prayed, but he'd do it…for Sam.

"Please, I'm begging you, don't take him…please. He's the only one I got; he's the only one I live for. I made a mistake the last time, selling my soul, because that meant I had to leave Sam, but at least it brought him back. J-Just give him another chance, give _me_ other chance." Dean cleared his dry throat and rubbed his eyes again. He placed his head down again, running a hand through his hair.

Suddenly, without warning, he felt someone tap his shoulder and clear their throat.

"Excuse me."

Dean jumped and brought his head up quickly. In front of him stood two police officers, looking at him curiously.

"Are you Dean Tucker?" One policeman, that looked to be in his 20's, asked.

"Who wants to know? Is there some sort of problem?" Sneered Dean.

"We're here on behalf of the automobile accident your brother, Sam, was involved in."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Would it be alright if we speak to him?" One police officer with a dark brown beard asked him.

That question instantly made Dean go numb again. "He- he can't."

"I understand it must be hard for-"

"He can't, because he's not conscious; he's dying!"

"Oh…we're terribly sorry, it's just that his car was in the middle of the road, there were no trees, animals, or other cars in the area, so we're suspecting a hit and run."

"A-A hit and run? Have you found the bastard who did this?" Shouted Dean, shooting up angrily.

"That's why we came here to ask Sam but…" said the brown bearded officer.

Dean sat back down and rubbed the back of his neck. The thought of someone hitting Sam and not even bothering to call an ambulance, never mind even stop to see if he was okay, sickened him and made him want to get revenge. If Sam had been unable to get out of the car he would…he would be… Dean erased the thought from his mind and looked at the two men.

"We'll give you a call if we get any information," said the younger officer as he handed Dean a business card. "I assume you're going to be here, so if your brother gets better, give us a call."

Dean took the card and held it tightly. The young officer, known as Adam Priest, looked at the man sadly. He knew exactly what the kid was going through.

"Hey," he said.

Dean looked up at him quietly, his jaw clenching and relaxing.

"He'll get better; people have come back from worse. I-I almost lost my brother to a plane crash last year. Worst news of my life. My brother he's…he can be a pain in the ass, but I look out for him…I love him. Anyways, he survived, but doctors said he wouldn't live to see the next day. Today, he works in a high profile crime lab down in Quantico. He's greatly skilled and respected. Don't give up hope, alright?"

Dean sighed inwardly and smiled weakly, nodding. "Thanks."

Adam patted the man's shoulder before turning around and following his partner back to the cruiser. Priest's eyes started to sting at the memory he had brought up for the kid's sake. The day when he was minutes away from losing Mike had been, what he considered, hell week. It had been one of the worse weeks in his entire life. Sam's brother was going through some shitty stuff.

Dean watched the officers drive away and then released a huge breathe. He looked down at the card the younger officer gave him. _Officer Adam Priest._ The guy was deep, and he'd actually gotten through to him. He knew what he had to do; he need to pray and pray and most of all he needed to stay by Sam's side the whole way through.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean walked down the hall quietly, dreading the sight he was going to come across in seconds. Finally, he reached Sam's room; the door was shut again, but he could still hear the faint sound of the machines keeping Sam alive.

Opening the door as quietly as he could, Dean stepped inside. He began to feel the familiar tingling in his legs, but he took a deep breath and shut the door. Bobby was sitting next to Sam with his hand on the kid's arm. When he heard the door click quietly, he looked up and as soon as he noticed Dean, he stood up and went over to him. Smiling sadly, he squeezed Dean's shoulder tightly before leaving Dean alone to have his time with Sam.

Dean went over and sat down in the chair Bobby had occupied seconds before while never taking his eyes off his brother. They wandered over Sam's prone body, counting the injuries he suffered. Dean stared at Sam's face emptily; it hardly even looked like his brother, he couldn't even recognize him. There were numerous multiple colored bruises scattered all over Sam's face, not to mention a few cuts on his cheeks and underneath his eye. Speaking of his eye, it was completely swollen, its purple hue standing out vividly against Sam's pale white face. His other eye, not being puffed-up, was sunken in with a black circle running underneath it. Dean's eyes moved a bit lower to Sam's nose, which was crooked, pink and purple. This kid was hardly recognizable anymore.

His observation moved farther down to Sam's slightly open mouth where the clear breathing tube was inserted down his throat. Surgical tape was placed gently among Sam's cheeks and mouth to keep the tube in place.

"Sammy, Dean said, his voice filled with sorrow and anguish. He wandered down to Sam's midriff where a thick beige bandage was wrapped tightly around Sam's body; it was, thankfully, covering the stitched up stab wound and mending the broken ribs. Sam's arms were also wrapped in bandages, but Dean knew if they weren't there he'd be looking at angry red skin and more bruises. His brother was going to be in a world of hurt when he woke up. He was going to wake up; Sam won't give up. Dean continued his evaluation, looking at the small wrap encasing Sam's left wrist, which was elevated on a pillow besides him.

The blood loss, Dean figured, had really taken a toll on Sam's health and appearance. His usually large frame seemed shrunken and easily breakable.

"So much for being a Sasquatch, huh Sammy?" Dean whispered, chuckling humorlessly. He carefully and slowly took Sam's hand in his, praying that he wouldn't break the kid with a single touch. He already did too much damage to his brother.

"Please get better, Sam or I'm gonna have to sell my soul again," Dean joked, but sobered up instantly.

Sam was still unresponsive, but Dean reckoned if Sam was awake, he'd start a huge dispute about how stupid and careless that would be.

"I'm gonna find out who did this to you, Sammy, I'm gonna rip 'em to pieces. I'm gonna kill the Sonofabitch who hurt you." Dean placed a hand on Sam's forehead, but wincing as he snatched it back, feeling the heat radiating off his brother. The infection was kicking in…fast.

"You stay alive, man, and I'll do whatever you want; I'll go wherever you want to go, you just gotta pull through this, alright? Just hang on, buddy."

Dean sat back in his chair, still gripping onto Sam's hand. He sighed loudly staring at his brother before flicking his examination towards the various wires and tubes that were sticking out of Sam and into the hundreds of machines next to the both of them. He swallowed fearfully; he really hoped this wasn't goodbye; that it wasn't his last night with Sam. Then one simple thought came to him: where the hell was Cas when you needed him?

**TBC :)**

**Damn, that took forever to write! So I decided to put Cas in the story, because it would take a miracle for Sam to come back from this. Thanks for all the reviews and I'm starting to work on the next chapter right now! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Just a short FYI, this takes place during the time Cas' powers are getting weaker and weaker, just the part about Sam's "first season" hair helped me imagine him better, cause I like his hair that way, but so…yeah, Cas' powers aren't that strong. But are they strong enough to heal Sam? Maybe, maybe not, you're gonna have to read to find out :) enjoy!**

It started with a twitch. That's what woke Dean from his light slumber next to Sam's hospital bed. He sat up and leaned closer to his brother.

"Sammy?"

Sam's fingers twitched again in his brother's grip and Dean's heart leaped into his throat; Sam was waking up. That bastard doctor didn't know a damn thing.

"Come on, Sam, you can do it. Open your eyes for me buddy."

But nothing happened, only Sam's fingers kept jerking. Suddenly, his brother's arm started jolting, then his chest, and afterwards his legs. Dean's heart plunged right back down into his stomach. Then, without warning, Sam's whole body began to convulse. That's when Dean realized that Sam wouldn't be waking any time soon. This is what the doctor was warning him about; Sam was having a seizure. Dean couldn't move; he was frozen to the spot watching Sam shake violently. Finally, he came to his senses and slammed his hand on the call button.

"Help!" Dean shouted as he ran out into the hall. "Someone, my brother's having a seizure!"

Immediately, a flurry of nurses, followed by Sam's doctor, rushed into the room, shoving Dean back so they could get to the bed. One nurse came up behind Dean and began to pull him out of the room.

"Sir, you need to leave so we can get your brother stable."

"No I can't leave him! He'll panic if-"

But Dean couldn't finish, because he heard a sound that alerted both his and all the people in the room.

"He's going into V-FIB!" yelled a nurse.

_ No, not again. This couldn't be happening again._

"Sam!" Dean hollered, trying to push past the nurses.

"Get the paddles!" Yelled the doctor.

"Please, let me be with him," whispered Dean.

"I'm sorry, Mr., but its crowded enough already; we need room to get your brother stable." The nurse gently forced Dean out of the room and shut the door in his face. Before he could try and get back in, she locked the door and hastily went to the other nurses to assist them.

"Sam," Dean groaned, watching the commotion through the window. Though a bunch of nurses were blocking his view of Sam, he would occasionally catch a glimpse of his convulsing brother. It was not looking good for him.

"Come on, Sam, come on!"

"260!" He could hear the doctor shout. Dean flinched when he heard the _thump_ of the shock against Sam's body. He saw his brother's chest lift off the bed, and in seconds, fall back down.

"No pulse."

Dean bit down on his lip and ran a hand through his, already, tussled hair.

"Charge to 300!"

Up…down.

"Still no…wait, he's back."

When Dean heard this, he let out a huge sigh of relief and he fell weakly to the chair besides him. He scrubbed his faced wearily; he just, almost, lost his brother again. Next time there might not be an 'almost'; Sam would be gone for good. No telling how much energy and strength that fucking seizure drained out of his brother. But Sam was fighting and that was a good thing; Sammy was a fighter and Dean never gave him enough, if not at all, credit for that. He would, though, after all this and Sam was back on his feet, Dean would respect and appreciate his little brother more.

Dean was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts when he heard the door click open. A couple of nurses filed out of the room and right behind them was the doctor.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean demanded.

"Your brother just had a Grand Mal seizure. He's very lucky to survive that in his condition, more so very lucky to be hanging on this long, period. But, I don't know how long he will last, because the fit drained a lot out of him and his body is becoming weaker and weaker by the moment, not to mention the high fever the infections are initiating. I really wish there was more that we could do, Dean, but…"

Dean's bottom lip trembled as he heard this. _Dammit, Sam! As if he didn't have enough to fight off already._

"Your brother is very strong, but his health is fading fast. If you want to take him out of his pain now-"

"No way in _hell_ am I pulling the plug! He's my brother and he _will_ get better! How the fuck can you give up on his so fast?" Dean growled angrily, then turned away from the doctor and looked miserably at his brother.

"You can sit with him again if you want, and I'll leave you to your decisions."

Dean ignored him, not even noticing that the doctor had left. He watched quietly as the remaining nurses in Sam's room fixed the pillows and blankets, adjusted a few of the wires and tubes before turning to leave. When they emerged out of the room, they looked at Dean with sympathy before returning to their stations. Dean thought about going back into the room, but truth was, he was scared his brother would have another fit, and he couldn't take it anymore. The doctor's pessimism, Sam's failing health, everything! He spun on his heels and ran down the hallways, through the waiting room, skipped the elevator and ran down six flights of stairs before ending up outside. The bitter air stung his lungs and throat, but he could have cared less; he deserved the pain…and so did the son of a bitch that hurt Sam. When he got his hands on the guy, he would…no time to think about that right now. Dean ran further away from the hospital, through the parking lot and into vacant field. There was something much more important right now that he had to do.

"Cas!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cas, please!" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs. "Please, if you can hear me, anyone. I-I don't know what to do anymore. Sam, he's- Sam's my little brother and I can't bear to see him like this. I can't lose him, not now or ever." He got no response and no one appeared. Dean closed his eyes in defeat and fell to his knees. "Please?"

"Dean."

Dean's head shot up and he turned around to the voice behind him. "Cas! Oh thank god."

"Don't thank God, thank me. I'm the one who came…I was a little busy," Castiel the angel joked. But when he received not even a grin from Dean, he knew there was no time to play around.

"Cas, please... Sam's dying in there and the doctors have given up hope and I don't know what to do and-"

"Hey! Slow down and take a deep breath."

"I can't! I can't be calm when I know I'm gonna be losing my brother any minute!"

Cas sighed sadly, looking at the crushed kid in front of him. Dean's face was pale, along with his eyes, which were bloodshot and puffy.

"Dean-"

"Please, can you- can you heal him? He can't die because of a fricken car crash; if he's ever going to die, he should go out fighting this war!"

"Dean, you have to understand that my powers are not as strong as they used to be. I may not be able to fix Sam. Even if I tried, he wouldn't be fully recovered."

"_Can_ you at least try? Just- I can't take this anymore, it's just too much for me to handle alone."

Cas nodded quietly. "Take me to him."

Dean sighed in relief. _Finally someone's listening to him._ He led Cas back to the hospital and up to Sam's room. When they stepped in, both Dean and Cas gasped in shock. Dean, because he hadn't seen Sam after the seizure yet, and Cas, because…well he hadn't seen him in forever. Sam had looked so much worse than before. Guess that's what happens when you're dying. Dean went over to the blinds and shut them, not wanting anyone to see what was about to happen.

"Oh, Dean, I'm sorry," Cas whispered as he took in Sam's appearance.

"Just…don't," Dean said, his voice cracking in emotion. The damn was about to break, but he didn't want Cas to see.

"Are you sure you want me to do this? Because if it doesn't work I-"

"Just do it, alright?"

Cas nodded and moved closer to Sam's bed. He could hear the synchronized breathing of the machine, helping Sam's breathe. His face was a complete mess, along with his arms and torso. This kid was beaten good. _Son of a bitch, Sam, you really don't do things halfway do ya?_

He looked at Dean once more before hovering his hand over Sam's motionless form. Dean stepped up cautiously, worried he might do something wrong. All of a sudden, he noticed the familiar twitch in Sam's fingers. Another damn seizure. Before the two knew it, the machines started going crazy as Sam convulsed vehemently.

"Cas, hurry! Doc said his body can't take another fit!"

Cas breathed quickly and placed a hand on Sam's bouncing head. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He could feel Sam's head bouncing below his hand, then gradually it began to cease. Dean watched Sam's body level down to smaller convulsions, then quivering, and finally, to his relief, nothing. Sam's body stilled and the machines went quiet. Back to normal at last.

"Did it- did it work?"

Cas opened his eyes and took his hand off of Sam's forehead. Before he could answer though, a bunch of nurses came rushing it, prepared to stop the seizure.

"It's okay, he's fine now," Dean smiled forcefully, hoping it was true. "It was just a small one this time."

The nurses bobbed their heads and left them alone again.

"_Is_ he fine now?"

"Yes, well, I healed his broken ribs, lacerated intestine, seizures, bruised kidney, nose, his eye, lung, his wrist and his burns. I wasn't able to get the infections, but those will go away with the antibiotics."

"What about the TBC?" Dean asked worriedly.

"That one was a bit more complicated. Since my powers aren't that strong, I only cured the thing that was most life- threatening like the seizures. He may still have some headaches for a while along with dizziness and some temporary memory loss, but other than that he should be okay and wake up in a few hours."

"Wait, you said memory loss? You mean, Sam might not remember what happened to him?"

"I hate to say this, but he may not remember the accident, he may not remember you, he may not even remember that Jess had died. His mind might still be back before you started searching for your dad."

"That far?"

Cas nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry, that was the best I could do."

"I know, it's alright, you did your best. At least Sam will live. Thanks."

Cas smiled and watched Dean look at his brother and take his limp hand. Those guys were two of a kind. Before Dean looked up again, Cas disappeared into thin air. Dean lifted his head and realized that the angel had left. He grinned in happiness. Sam was going to be okay. He brought the chair closer to the bed and sighed. He squeezed Sam's hand and watched the kid breathe; soon he would wake up and not need that godforsaken tube shoved down his throat.

"Everything's going back to the way it was, Sammy. Now all we have to do is find the heartless jerk that did this to you, okay? Just wake up when you're ready and I'll be right in this very spot when you do."

**Kinda a sucky ending to a chapter, but then next chapter will compensate for it. Dean is finally going to get the bastard who hit Sam and left him for dead…and maybe, just maybe, I'll wake Sam up…maybe ;) Reviews make my day!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Sorry for the long wait :) I've been pretty busy and haven't had much time to type. But here's the next chapter, enjoy! :) **

Dean tiredly watched Sam breath in and out slowly. It was eleven in the morning and he hadn't slept a wink. He was too afraid that if he fell asleep and woke up, it would have all been a dream; that Cas had never come and Sam was still dying. Around 5 am, the doctor had come to see what Dean had decided- not like he would have chosen to pull the plug anyways- but as soon as the doc saw his brother's vitals, he was baffled. Everything about his health had improved miraculously. Soon after, they, thankfully, removed the breathing tube, seeing that Sam's lung was fully repaired and strong as ever, Sam's breathing now was even and never-ending. The doctor presumed Sam would make a full recovery in a matter if days. This news lifted a huge weight off of Dean's chest. Now all he had to do was wait. Butt waiting for Sam to wake was agonizing…especially if he was starving. He had refused to eat _anything _until he knew Sam wasn't dying anymore. There were a bunch of leftover and untouched jello cups that had been meant for Sam. _How stupid could they be? A few hours ago, they were sure he was going to die, but they gave him friggin' jello cups anyways? They were jerks!_ Anyhow, he figured Sam wouldn't be eating them anytime soon. _Can't let good food go to waste, right?_

Dean was in the middle of taking a bite from his seventh jello cup, when someone lightly rapped on the doorframe. He removed the spoon from his open mouth, leaving the jello unaffected, and placed it back into the cup before looking towards the door.

"Mr. Tucker? You have someone on the phone asking for you," said a small red-headed nurse.

"Who?"

"Officer Priest?"

Dean's heart leaped; this could be the thing he was desperately waiting for. "Okay, I'll be right there."

The red-head nodded curtly and left the doorway. Dean looked back at his peacefully sleeping brother and sighed. Grunting slightly, he stood up and squeezed Sam's shoulder assuring. "I'll be right back, kiddo. I'm just gonna be right outside the door, alright?" Dean quietly left Sam and went to the nurse's station where the same red-head nurse was holding a receiver in her hand. He flashed his award-winning smile at her and took it gratefully.

"Hello?"

"Dean Tucker? It's Adam Priest."

"Hey."

"How's your brother doing?"

"He's getting better. Should be waking up in a couple of hours, but _I'd_ feel better if we caught the shit-faced jerk who did this and left him for dead."

"Well I guess today's your lucky day, then. We found traces of metal and paint on, what was left of, your car and matched it to a semi registered to a Ferdico Shipping Company, not far from your location."

_ A semi? Sam was hit by a friggin' truck? No wonder he had been dying. _This new information made him both outraged and overjoyed all at once. He could finally get his hands wringed around the jerk-face's neck who almost killed his brother.

"Do you know who was driving that night?"

"No, but that's what we're going to find out. I'm heading to Ferdico now if you want to-"

"Yes…please," Dean said eagerly.

"Alrighty then. I'll be at the hospital in five minutes."

"Thanks." With that, Dean hung up the phone and sped back to Sam's room. "Don't worry, buddy, I'll be back soon. I'm gonna catch the guy who did this to you and he's gonna regret ever setting foot on earth." Dean snatched his coat, gently stroked Sam's hair for a moment and then quickly left the room.

By the time he got outside, Priest pulled up next to him. Dean hopped inside and looked forward in anticipation; his adrenaline was rising quickly and he was going to go outrageous once he saw who hit Sam.

"Here," Priest said, placing an object into Dean's lap.

The older brother looked down and saw that the man was handing him a gun.

"No thanks," Dean grinned, pulling out his own. "I'm all set."

Priest looked at him suspiciously, his eyebrows raised, but he didn't question.

"I'm not gonna ask why, but it's only for threatening purposes, alright?"

"Of course. I wouldn't kill him; maybe just injure or maim, but I won't kill him no matter how much he deserves it."

Priest smirked, looking once more at Dean before storing away the extra gun and started the cruiser. In a matter of seconds, they were out of the hospital parking lot and on their way to Ferdico.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Larry Franks was paranoid. He was so afraid that someone was gonna find out what he did. He was sitting- or more like quivering- in the wooden seat, which he found weirdly uncomfortable, in the small break room of Ferdico. His left leg was bouncing vigorously, running a sweaty palm through his hair and down his pale, wet face. He killed someone. _You killed a kid._ A couple of his buddies had asked why there was a huge dent in his bumper, and he'd lied, saying that he hit a moose. His breathing was unstable and rapid and he had a gut feeling that he was going to be caught soon. If he was, he was screwed. Larry groaned inwardly, his nervous eyes flicking around the room. He was the only one on break and, for once, he was glad for that. If anyone saw him like this, they were sure to know that something was up.

"Larry."

A gruff voice snapped him out of his panicking thoughts and looked up to see his manager standing in the doorway. He did _not_ look happy.

"Y-yes?"

"There's some guys out front who wanna speak with ya 'bout your truck."

"Alright," Larry said, getting up and wiped his hands on his jeans.

"You, ah, you seem a little tense," his manager said, but it sounded like he knew something Larry didn't.

"I-I'm fine. Think I'm just comin' down with somethin'."

His manager didn't reply. He just, earlier, found out some disturbing information about his employee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**5 Minutes earlier**

Dean looked on as he and Priest were inspecting the truck that had hit Sam. Dean looked closely and saw little scratches or black paint from the Impala. Anger bubbled inside his stomach as he found more and more marks. This guy destroyed his car, possibly beyond repair, but more importantly, nearly killed Sam.

"Can I help you two fellas?" A man in his early 50's came up to them. He introduced himself as Mike Ledwell, the Ferdico manager.

"I'm Officer Adam Priest; I'm here on behalf of this truck and the dents inflicted on them."

"Larry just said he hit a moose. Nothin' to worry 'bout."

"Larry…"

"Franks. Larry Franks. He's the one who drives this truck.

"Have you ever seen paint on a moose before, Mike, because I'm pretty sure they have fur instead of metal," Dean blurted.

"What do you mean?"

"Look," said Priest, letting Mike by to look at the truck.

He leaned forward and looked more closely at the vehicle.

"Well I'll be a donkey's ass. You saying this was a hit and run?"

"Yes. Would it be possible to speak to Franks?"

"O-Of course. None of my workers will kill someone and get away with it," Mike said as he entered the building.

Dean winced at the manager's last comment. He had been a thread away from losing Sammy, and he never wanted to think about that ever again. Within minutes, he emerged back outside, but with a black haired man, looking terrified.

"He looks scared," said Priest, noticing Franks was wringing his hands together.

"He should be," Dean growled, glaring at Franks.

All of a sudden, the man began to bolt away from them, obviously knowing why they were there.

"Son of a bitch," muttered Priest as he was about to go after Larry.

"No," Dean said, putting a hand up to stop the policeman. "I got it."

Priest nodded and let Dean dart after the fleeing, cowardly man. Dean was glad they guy was running; it gave him more of a solid excuse for beating the shit out of him. In an instant, Dean caught up to Larry and he leaped into the air, landing roughly on the guy's back.

"You fuckin' bastard!" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs as he flipped Larry over. The man's hands were up in a defense stance, but Dean felt no sympathy, no mercy for this man. He immediately started throwing punches to every inch of Franks' face, leaving no area of skin clean.

"You son of a bitch! How could you leave my brother to die?"

Officer Priest stood behind Dean, watching as the kid, destroyed the man's face. Dean obviously had some experience in fighting. He winced every time he heard a *smash* or a *crack* or a *thump*; the sound of Dean's fist connecting with flesh and bone. Yet, he made no move to stop him…not yet.

"I-I'm s-sorry! I thought *crack* he was *smack* d-dead!"

"And you didn't fucking bother to call for help? What kind of *crunch* heartless *thump* jerk are you?" Dean stopped disfiguring Larry's face and he got off of the trembling man. He wiped his nose of his sleeve and glared down at the man. Without any warning to Franks, Dean lifted him from the collar and slammed him against the wall, the, already, injured man's ribs cracking under pressure. Dean heard this; it was extremely loud, but he didn't wince. Franks deserved this.

"If I _ever_ see you again, ever, I. Will. Kill. You!" Dean snarled darkly. He released the quivering, bleeding man into the dirty ground and kicked him in the stomach.

"I-I'm so sorry, p-please, I s-sorry!" Cried Larry.

Dean looked down disgustingly at the pathetic man in front him. Without another word, he turned around towards the officer, who was looking at him in shock.

"Damn," he mouthed as Dean passed him.

"Dean sniffed, adrenaline pumping furiously through his veins. "Get him outta my sight."

"Will do." Priest walked up to Larry, who was now curled up in a ball, crying and apologizing. Priest, though, felt no sympathy. He didn't tell Dean this, but when his brother almost died in the plane crash, people thought he was dead and just left him there. He was so pissed when he found out and wanted nothing more than to punch the snot out of everyone who didn't give a fuck. "Get up," he spat, clicking the handcuffs on tightly and dragging Larry to his feet. He called for his partner to come pick him up; because he knew Dean wanted to get back to Sam.

Dean sat quietly in the passenger seat, seething with anger and adrenaline. His trembling blood caked his hands and his jacket sleeves, both from Larry and his own broken skin. What he had done felt so good and Sammy would be happy to know that Franks would be hurting for a _very_ long time. Within ten minutes, Priest's partner came and took the injured man away. At first he looked questioningly at the bleeding criminal then to Dean and then back to Priest. The leading officer just shook his head, indicating not to bother with inquiries. His partner shrugged and stuffed Franks into the car and drove out of sight.

Priest, then, got into his own cruiser and slammed the door shut. He looked at Dean warily as they sat in utter silence.

"You okay?"

Dean didn't say anything for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking.

"I am now."

"Good. Let's go tell your brother the good news. He probably awake by now, no doubt."

"Yeah…hopefully."

And hopefully Sam remembered who he was and what era he was in.

**Officer Priest seems like a pretty chill guy, huh? Wish every cop was like that haha! Comments! :)))) Next chapter to be up soon! Oh and if anything doesn't make since, I apologize cause I'm just really tired.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Sorry for the super long wait you guys. Just real busy…again ;) Here's the next chapter, enjoy!**

Dean quickly thanked Officer Priest as he got out of the car. He saluted to the man before shutting the door of the cruiser and trotted up to the hospital. He couldn't wait to see the look on Sammy's face when he told him the good news. He knew Sam would be overjoyed to know that his _almost_ killer was behind bars for a very long time. His brother had to be awake by now; it's been at least two hours. Cas had said Sam would wake up within the next couple of hours and Dean had been patient long enough; his eagerness was ready to blow. He strode down the crowded hallways, bumping into small nurses and pushing past doctors. He had to get to Sam.

"Sam, you're neve…" but Dean's sentence trailed off when he saw his brother; his little baby brother who was still out cold. _Shit, Sammy._ Dean dejectedly walked further into the room and sat back down in the chair he abandoned earlier.

"Come on, man, you gotta wake up. I'm getting bored of just talking to air."

Silence.

"And if you don't remember _me_, which would be very difficult to do, I'm gonna have to slap you up the side of the head." Dean smirked weakly, but getting no bitchy comeback from his brother didn't make it very fun.

"Dammit, Sammy."

Dean continued to watch Sam's chest rise and fall steadily. Now that he had a better look at his brother, he realized how good of a job Cas had done, considering. Sam's face was cleaned up really well, only a few bruises were left showing on the bridges of his nose and his jawline. Sam's eye was no longer black and the swelling had gone down tremendously. The thick bandages around his arms had been removed, showing only smooth tan skin instead of burnt and red. The cast was the only thing left, though, but his wrist was healed. Not like they would tell the docs though, because then they'd become suspicious as to why the bone healed so quickly.

"Let's got, dude, time to rise and shine…I-I have to know, for sure, if you're okay."

No response.

Dean groaned in frustration and scratched his head. "So that's how it's gonna be? The silent treatment? Real mature, kid. Well, two can play at that game." Dean folded his arms across his chest and tried glaring at his sleeping brother. It didn't last even twenty seconds, before Dean got agitated and leaned forward. He grabbed Sam's curled, outstretched hand and squeezed it gently. He laid his head down on the bed next to his brother's arm. It was obviously going to be awhile, so he guessed he should just get comfortable. Besides, he was exhausted; his adrenaline was wearing off quickly. He closed his eyes, sluggishly drifting off into a restless sleep. His last view of anything before the darkness overcame him was he peacefully sleeping kid brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything felt sore and stiff. His head, his chest, even his face. What the hell happened to him? Maybe he'd gotten into some sort of fight? Sam took a deep breath, inhaling the smells of floor cleaner and sterilizer. They smelled familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He rolled his head, unexpectedly, on something soft and fluffy. _Dammit, now he knew where he was. A friggin' hospital._ Something really bad must have happened for him to end up in a hospital, but he hoped he was wrong; he absolutely despised those places.

He tried uncurling his fingers, but they felt restrained by something-or someone- and he frowned inwardly. He moved his fingers, a bit more this time, and he was rewarded with a groaned followed by the pressure near his arm decrease and a gasp. The grip on his hand got tighter, causing him to wince, but he brushed it off anyways.

"Sam?"

_Dean? What the hell was his brother doing here?_ Now he definitely had to open his eyes; this was totally worth seeing for himself. Maybe he was dreaming…hopefully.

"Come on, buddy, open those eyes for me."

_Why was he being so nice?_ Sam blinked opened his heavy eyelids, but his vision turning out completely unfocused. He squeezed them shut, hoping to get them clear before reopening them. He found himself squinting at a brightly lit room, which jarred his, suddenly, hammering head. He groaned as he looked at his surroundings, noticing all the machines and wires coming from him.

"Sammy?"

_Since when did Dean call me Sammy?_ Something was so not right.

"D'n?" Sam managed to get out with his scratchy raw voice. Dean didn't care how bad Sam's voice sounded right now, it was music to his ears.

"Oh, thank god you're okay." Sam remembered him; he remembered both their names.

Sam coughed harshly and looked up to see Dean grinning down at him…which was really starting to creep him out…a lot. His brother was acting really strange.

"D-Dean, what are y-you doing here?" Sam frowned as much as he could with his sore, bruised face.

"You had me really scared for a moment there, Sam. I almost lost you."

Suddenly, a name popped into his head-a very important and special name- that made his panic gradually climb.

"W-What happened? Where's Jess, is she okay?"

Dean smile immediately vanished, his brow furrowing.

"Dean," Sam said shakily. "Where's Jess?"

_Damn._

**A really short chapter, but I just wanted to get a chapter up and the story flowing…and it seemed like a good place for a cliffhanger. I already have chapter 9 almost written out and it should be all typed and update within the next few days. Comment comment comment! :) Luv ya!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**So I just realized I've been saying TBC instead of TBI for traumatic brain injury. I'm probably gonna fix it but just pretend it says TBI :) **

"Come on, Sammy stop playing around," Dean chuckled nervously.

"Dean, I'm not! Just tell me where Jess is. Is she okay? She's okay right?"

Dean paled. His brother had lost eight years of his memory; he didn't remember the hunts, the numerous injuries they've gotten, dad's death, _his _own death in Cold Oak, or anything! Only Jess and college.

"Dean!"

"Sam calm down. Jess is…" Dean looked into his brother's worry filled eyes and heaved a sigh. "Jess is fine. I had come to take you for a short road trip, because- you know- I haven't seen you in forever and you…um…you in a car crash." Well at least some of it wasn't a lie.

"W-What? Really? What about you? Are you okay?"

"Huh? No, I'm fine. You wanted to drive _my_ car to get us some eats and I reluctantly agreed, so I let you go. Next thing I know…you're here. I'm sorry Sam, I didn't mean for you to get hurt."

Sam was silent with shock. He looked away from his brother and stared straight ahead as he tried to get the information pumping through his drugged brain.

"Well, uh, you just dote on that for a sec, and I'm just gonna go tell the doctor you're awake," Dean smiled forcefully, pressing the call button and leaving the room. In minutes, the doctor came running towards him. Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for the questions to bombard him.

"Dean, what's the matter? Is everything okay?" the dr. said, seeing the grim look on Dean's face.

"Yeah everything's fine. Sam's up, but…"

"But what Dean?" Asked the doctor as he made his way for Sam's room.

"He, um, he lost his memory. He's back eight years ago."

The doctor looked at Dean, panic in his eyes, as he pushed past him and into the room.

"Hello, Sam, my name is Dr. Walker and I've been attending to your health."

"What the hell happened? My brother said car accident, but he likes to joke around sometimes."

"Well, I'm afraid he's not joking this time, Sam. You really did and you almost died a couple times. Now, I would like to take you to get a couple of CT scans for your head; you hit it pretty bad and you could have done some serious damage to your brain. But for now I'll just check your standard vitals."

"O-Okay," Sam nodded hesitantly, still rather shocked on the news he was receiving.

Dean watched silently from the window as the doctor shone a penlight into Sam's eyes, checked his breathing and his head. When he was finished, he smiled and thanked Sam, leaving the room wordlessly. As soon as he stepped out of the room, the smile had disappeared.

"What? What's wrong?

"We're going to have to take some CT scans to confirm it, but, as I suspected, there is some temporary swelling in your brother's brain."

"And that's what's causing his memory loss?" Dean asked eagerly.

"Possibly. We can't know for sure, but from my experience, that's what it is, most likely."

"But it will go away right? He'll get his memory back?"

"Eventually, but it could be days, months, even years."

"Y-Years?" Dean swallowed.

Dr. Walker nodded sadly and patted Dean's shoulder. I'll be back in thirty minutes to get your brother for the CT scan."

Dean nodded unconsciously as he looked back to Sam who was staring into space. He wiped a hand down his face nervously. _And just when things were starting to look up._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dean?"

"Right here, buddy. You're gonna be okay, I'll be here when you get back," Dean assured as he watched his brother get wheeled out of his room.

Sam hesitated, but eventually nodded. Even though he didn't know why his brother was here with him, he was _still_ family and he was _still _confused. His doctor, named Dr. Walker, had come to back to take him for a CT scan, but he didn't trust the guy. Dad's number one rule: Never trust the hospital and its staff; they ask too many questions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well?"

"Just as I suspected; there is some swelling in his brain causing the memory loss."

"But he will get it back," Dean said, not posing it as a question.

"Like I said before…eventually."

"Alright…thanks." Dean said as he nodded dejectedly and stepped back inside his brother's room.

"Ah, Sammy," Dean muttered. Thankfully Sam had fallen asleep again so he couldn't hear him. "You better get your memory back; I can't do this without you, man." He squeezed Sam's arm gently and sat back down in the worn out crappy chair. He shook his head and laughed. The stress his little brother caused him.

"You are so gonna give me gray hairs kid, and people do not look attractive with gray hairs."

"What was that boy?" A gruff voice grunted behind him.

Dean turned around sharply and grinned sheepishly. "Hey, Bobby. What are you doing here?" Dean said getting up.

"Come to see how the kid was doing. Now what was that about gray haired people not looked attractive?"

Dean chuckled nervously as he ran a hand through his hair. "Nothing, it's nothing. I was just joking."

Bobby grunted skeptically, but brushed it off. "So? How is he?"

"He's okay, except…"

"What Dean?"

"He lost his damn memory, Bobby."

"What was the last thing he remembered?"

"Jess."

That one word explained it all.

"Oh…balls."

"Yeah, you got that right."

"Is it permanent?"

"Fortunately no, but the doctor isn't sure when he'll get it back. It could be fucking years Bobby. Years!"

Bobby looked at Dean sadly, feeling the boy's pain. Then he noticed the dried blood on the kid's jacket sleeve and frowned. "What the hell happened there, Dean?"

"What?" Dean looked down to where Bobby was pointing to. "Oh…it's uh…it's a long story." He hadn't even realized that Frank's blood was still on his hands.

"Don't wanna know…idjit."

Dean chuckled and he went to go sit back down. "So where've you been?"

"To get what was left of your car."

"The Impala? She's alive?"

Bobby smiled and nodded. But suddenly the smile vanished as he looked past Dean.

"Uncle Bobby?"

Dean turned around and saw Sam sitting up on his elbows, pain lines visible on his pallid face. Fear and confusion shone through the big brown eyes and it broke Dean's heart to see the kid hurting so much.

"Dean what is he doing here?"

"He's just coming to visit you to see if you were okay; he's making up for dad not being here."

"Oh…okay," Sam said cautiously.

Afterwards, there was an awkward silence that broke out in the room. Suddenly…

"I'm hungry," Sam whined.

Dean's face broke out into a smile as Sam's usual bitchy complaining began.

"Then sit tight, buddy, I'll get you some more jello cups…since…I ate them all."

Sam scrunched his nose. "I don't like jello."

"Stop being such a picky eater, Sam. It's either jello or some slop shit that doesn't look, in my opinion, very edible."

"Fine," Sam gave in with a bitch face.

Bobby smiled at the brotherly banter he was so used to. The boys were gonna be okay, just hopefully Sam would get his memory back…and soon.

"Well I'm gonna get goin'. You two behave and Sam you get better."

"Thanks," Sam yawned, suddenly feeling very drained.

Bobby left the room as Dean began to leave, too, for the jello.

"I'll be right back, man."

"O-kay," Sam said sleepily.

"Don't fall asleep on me," Dean warned.

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"I promise," Sam smiled.

Dean smirked as he left the room. When he returned, he approached a sight that made him roll his eyes, yet smile.

"So much for keeping your promise, bitch," Dean said as he placed the five jello cups, he "borrowed" from the food cart, onto Sam's tray. Sam had fallen asleep…again. The kid must have been beat, but he couldn't blame him. Combine the meds and the fatigue could make a person very drowsy. Dean smiled faintly as he pulled the blankets up to Sam's shoulders and brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

"Please get better Sammy," Dean whispered, tears welling at the brim of his eyes. "I don't know what I'd do if you went back to Stanford. I don't wanna lose you; its happened way to many times in our life." Dean grabbed Sam's hand and squeezed it. "I'll be back, man, I'm just gonna grab our stuff form the motel so we don't overstay and bring it to Bobby's. I'll come back as soon as I can, okay?"

As expected, he received no response, so he turned to leave. He shut off the lights, looked back at his sleeping brother once more before leaving the hospital. He called a cab and rode back to the motel, grabbed his and Sam's things, got back in the cab and ended up at Bobby's.

"Is it okay if we stay here for a while once Sam gets out of the hospital?"

"You don't need to ask, boy, you two are always welcome."

"Thanks."

Dean dumped the bags in the living room before eagerly heading for the door. Bobby had lent him one of his "working" cars to go back to the hospital, but the whole way there Dean was cursing and grumbling. It was a 1976 Chevy Chevette and it popped sputtered and screeched the whole way. Dean swore he was going to be deaf.

Finally he parked the car and trotted into the hospital. He got to Sam's floor, passing the hot nurses and flashing them smiles. Every single time he was rewarded with blushes and giggles; something that was to be expected. But what wasn't expected was the screaming and alarms ringing out near none other than Sam's room. He prayed and prayed that it wasn't his brother who was causing the ruckus, but even still he broke into a run.

"We need to sedate him now!" He heard someone yell. "He's getting out of control!"

Unfortunately, when Dean reached the room, he saw a horrible sight that made him face lose color. Sam's face was contorted in pain, his body thrashing around on the bed. It looked like a seizure, but Dean knew it wasn't. He knew exactly what was going on: Sam was having a nightmare.

"Sedate him now!" The doctor yelled.

"No!" Dean shouted as he ran in. "I know how to handle this!" He moved closer to his brother and saw there were tears running down the kid's face.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, shaking his brother's shoulders roughly. "Sammy wake up, dammit! You're having a nightmare, wake up!"

At first, Sam didn't seem to hear him, whimpers escaping his mouth, but finally Sam's eyes snapped open and he began gasping for air.

"Easy Sam, you're okay. It was just a nightmare, alright? I got you."

Sam looked around frantically until his eyes landed on his older brother. Sam's hands were gripped tightly on Dean's arms; the only thing that was keeping him upright. His arms were trembling, and his breath was harsh and rapid.

"D-Dean. J-Jess she-I-I saw something. Jess was burning alive on-on the ceiling, Dean."

Dean gulped. Another one of _those_ damn dreams. The dream that Sam used to have almost every day since Jess' death.

"It was nothing man; nothing but a nightmare, okay? Just forget about it."

Sam nodded slowly as Dean gently eased his brother back onto the pillows.

"You okay?"

"Y-Yeah. I-I think so."

"Good. God dammit, Sam, you almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry."

The nurses smiled and left the two alone, sighing in relief. The kid had a good brother.

"By the way…Dean?"

"Yeah dude?"

"I'm still hungry."

**Whew, that was a long one! Poor Dean and poor Sam, they are really getting it rough. Next chapter sneak peek: Sam gets his memory back- thank god right? BTW Thanks for all the reviews; they make me happy!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Hey guys… so sorry about last chapter; I completely forgot that Sam knew Bobby when he was young- still kind of a newbie with SPN. So I fixed it up and it's new and improved. Here's the next chapter: it's early cause it's a birthday present to me! Turning 17 soon :)**

**Enjoy!**

Dean watched in amusement as Sam shoveled down the jello that he "didn't" like. In seven minutes flat, the five jello cups were completely empty.

"Geez Sam, hungry much?"

"Yes," Sam shot back, giving Dean a glare. "Got a problem with that?"

"No, no. Do your thing," Dean smirked, putting up his hands in surrender.

Sam placed the last empty cup on the tray and laid back on the pillows, sighing in content.

"Ya know, I don't think it was very smart to eat so fast after not eating for so long, college-boy."

"Why?"

"Well, for one-" But Dean couldn't finish as he saw Sam's face lose all color and his cheeks bulge. His eyes went wide as his hand shot up to his mouth.

"Oh, god," Sam said, his voice muffled. "D'n?"

The older brother immediately went into action, grabbing a nearby trashcan and thrusting it into Sam's arms; just in time, thankfully. Sam puked all that he had eaten- which wasn't very much- into the trash can. He retches reverberated against the container, making the noise louder than it should be. Dean winced in sympathy as he placed a comforting hand on Sam's trembling back.

"Just let it out, you're okay," Dean soothed. "Just let it happen, kiddo, I got you."

After about two minutes of vomiting and one of dry heaving, Sam spit the remaining bile and took his head out of the can, breathing heavily.

"You okay, kid?" Dean looked at Sam in concern.

"Y-Yeah, I'm- I'm good. E-Exhausted but g-good."

"Here," Dean said grabbing a tissue and handing it to his brother. "Wipe that shit off your face, and I don't mean the throw-up," Dean said jokingly.

"Ha ha, very funny," Sam said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. He accepted the tissue and wiped his mouth. When he was done, he threw it away with the bile in the trashcan. He passed the bin to Dean, who disgustingly picked it up with pinched fingers and put it as far away as possible from the both of them. Sam fell back lethargically onto the pillows and closed his eyes. Why did he have to feel like he'd just ran a marathon?

"Dean?"

"Yeah, man?"

"When…when can I go…home? I need- I have to see if Jess is okay."

"Sam, geez, she's okay, alright? Trust me."

"Huh, the last time I trusted you, you left me alone with a drunken dad and he nearly beat me to death."

Dean frowned, utterly shocked at what was just said. Why the hell would Sam say that?

"What the hell, man? I've always had your back and now you're bringing that _one_ mistake up? I said I was sorry and I've been guilty about that my whole life! So shut the hell up!"

"Whatever," said Sam opening his eyes and rolling them in annoyance.

"No, not whatever. How could you not trust me after all that we've-" but then Dean caught himself. Sam didn't know what they've been through; he didn't remember. It was like it never happened. "How could you not trust me?" Dean growled, hoping Sam didn't notice his slip-up.

"Dean, just let the subject go. I'm too tired to argue with you right now."

"Nope. You brought it up, so like it or not, we're fucking talkin' about this. What the _hell_ is your issue, man? I saved your ass multiple times, which includes saving you from rotting on the side of the road, Sam! I've stayed by your side every second of the way; I haven't slept peacefully in days, because I was so worried about you! But, if you really feel that way, if you really don't trust me, then I guess all of it was for nothing! Saving your life was for nothing!"

"Dean! P-please don't- don't say that. I'm- I didn't mean to say it like that, alright? I'm sorry!"

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it, kid. I'm leaving, I need some fresh air."

_I need some fresh air. I need some fresh air. Fresh air. Fresh air. That phrase, it sounded so familiar to Sam. But why?_

"Dean wait I'm- gah!" Sam grunted, bending over and clutching his head tightly. It felt like someone was pounding a hammer on a weight, or worse, it felt like it was on fire.

Dean was just about to storm out of the room, when he heard his little brother cry out…in pain. He spun around to see Sam gripping his head as tears of agony trickled down his, suddenly, pale face. Immediately, all the anger evaporated, his brotherly protectiveness dominating it.

"Sam!" He shouted as he ran over to his little brother and placed a hand on his quivering back. "Sammy, can you hear me? What's wrong!"

"M-My head! Oh god Dean, it hurts!"

"Okay, okay, calm down; I'm gonna get help, alright?"

"No! Please d-don't leave me! Oh fuck, it h-hurts, please Dean make it stop!"

"I will, I will, just breathe through it!"

"I-I can't Dean, just please make it stop!" Sam cried.

Dean's heart crumbled at his brother's broken cry. He reached over the kid's head and slammed the call button repeatedly.

"Come on, come on, hurry up!" Dean muttered, willing the nurses to hurry their asses up so they could help his brother. He had no idea what was wrong with Sam, but all he knew was that it was scaring the shit outta him.

Finally Sam's doctor and a couple of nurses came bursting into the room.

"Dean ple-" suddenly Sam's voice cut off as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his rigid arms fell limp to his side.

"Sam?" Dean shouted as Sam's lifeless body fell back onto the bed, unconscious. The pain had been so intense that it caused his brother to pass out.

"Sam! Dammit Sammy, wake up!" Dean murmured, pulling Sam's upper body into his arms and shaking it.

"Sam!"

"Dean, you're gonna have to leave the room," Dr. Walker said.

"No, something's wrong with him and I'm not leaving his side!"

The doctor sighed and looked at Dean sympathetically. The kid looked exhausted and stressed, so he should just cut him some slack.

"Fine, but you need to stay out of the way so we can do our jobs, okay?"

Dean scowled but nodded, backing away into a corner as he watched Dr. Walker go to Sam's side. He observed fearfully as the doctor checked Sam's pupils, brainwaves and other things Dean didn't understand. When they finally finished, the nurses left the room and the doctor turned to Dean. The somber look, though, told him that it was bad.

"What? What happened?"

"It seems that the TBI's swelling is causing pressure to your brother's brain, therefore explaining the pain in Sam's head. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it caused your brother to go into a light coma.

_A coma? Dammit, Sammy, a coma? You never do things halfway do ya kid?_

"But now that he's asleep, it will aid in having the intercraneal pressure to decrease."

"Uhm, when will he wake up, do you know?"

"It's too soon to say, Dean, but swelling decreasing usually takes 3-5 days…if he's lucky maybe less."

Dean felt like he was punched in the gut. This was hi fault…once again. Maybe if he didn't start the arugument with his brother, which caused the kid to yell, then maybe he'd be okay. But no, he had to open his big fat mouth and kept the shouting going. Sam usually was the one who did that, but he'd been tired and wanted to rest. _You stupid Sonofabitch, Dean. Why do you keep screwing things up?_

"I'll leave you alone with your brother," said the doctor, breaking Dean out of his guilty thoughts.

"T-Thanks, I appreciate it." Dean waited until the doctor left before he fell weekly to his knees. Everything was so overwhelming. He couldn't take it anymore.

"God dammit, Sammy; don't do this to me, dude," Dean sniffed.

From the ground he examined his little brother's heartbeat on the monitor. It was slow; too slow…almost like he was dying. But hopefully he wasn't. Dean shook the thought out of his head; he had to think positive. After a couple minutes of thinking, he composed himself and stood up and cleared his throat as he fixed his jacket. Now all he had to do was play the waiting game…worst game _ever_ invented.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It'd been three days since Sam went into a supposedly "light" coma. Dean had stopped eating…for once, and he stopped sleeping. He knew it was bad for his health, but he didn't give a damn. His appearance was haggard, but he also didn't care about that either. He'd called Bobby yesterday and told him the news and he came as fast as he could. When he saw Sam he gasped; when he saw Dean, he was shocked. The kid looked horrible. He tried to talk some sense into the boy, but he couldn't get through to him. Dean just ignored him and kept his gaze on Sam, his chest and the monitor. Bobby had left, leaving Dean to think things through, but he didn't think…he only waited. Occasionally, a nurse or Sam's doctor would come in to check on not only Sam, but Dean as well. The poor man looked sick and depressed; they'd tried to encourage him to eat, but once again, they couldn't get through to him. No one could except for one: Sam.

Dean could have cared less on how he looked to other people. He cared more about how ill Sam looked. His face was pale-almost gray- with a tint of yellow from his lack of sun exposure. He'd gotten a lot skinner-probably lost about twenty pounds- since they haven't hunted in forever. Usually running for or from something that was trying to kill people and them would have them loose at least ten pounds. Maybe not himself so much, because of the foods he ate, but…whatever. Sam muscles had begun to wither, making his normally large frame seem a lot smaller than it should be. The feeble kid looked like he'd been in a fight- not associated with the supernatural for once- his eyes rimmed with dark circles. The only good thing was that the bruises on Sam's nose were almost transparent. That was one good thing; now all Sam had to do was wake up.

Dean rubbed his face, feeling the prickly stubble scratch his palm.

"Come on, Sammy, please wake up," Dean whispered in a hoarse voice. He barely talked since Sam fell unconscious. He didn't see the point if he couldn't banter with or annoy Sam, then there was no fuckin' point…to anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost 8am on the fourth day of Sam's coma and Dean was still staring at his brother through heavy-lidded eyes. He repeatedly rubbed his grit filled eyes with his left hand while he rested his heavy laden head on his right. He was so damn tired and he desperately wished for some coffee- or better, some beer, but he didn't want to leave his brother's side…he couldn't. Not without seeing Sam's big puppy dog eyes open and reassure him that he was okay again.

"Sam, let's get the show on the road, dude. Just wake up…please?"

Nothing. Dean groaned in frustration and he scrubbed his eyes once more; none of this would have happened if they hadn't fought. None! How could he let this all go to hell? Well, maybe not hell, but it was pretty damn close. They could've been out on a hunt, Sam bitching and moaning as usual while Dean stuffed his face with greasy unhealthy foods. Those were the normal days; the most normal days a Winchester could have in their line of work.

Suddenly, a noise brought Dean out of his thoughts. A groan. _Sam?_ Dean sat up quickly and looked at his brother closely.

"Sam?"

His heart lept when he saw his brother's face crease and his lanky form shift weakly underneath the sheets.

"Oh, thanks god," Dean breathed as he took Sam's hand tightly in his own.

"Come on Sammy."

Finally, after fifteen seconds of groaning and blinking, Sam's eyes opened tiredly.

"Sam?"

His brother looked around in sheer confusion before his eyes landed on Dean.

"D-Dean?" He coughed, his voice raw from so many days of silence.

"Hey man. Nice to finally see you awake," Dean grinned.

"Where-"

"It's okay, Sam. Jess is fine. Don't worry," Dean cut Sam off, _assuming_ that Sam was about to ask where his girlfriend was.

"Sam frowned. "Why the hell would you joke about something like that?"

"What?"

"How could you say that to me? You know how much I went through after Jess' death, why would you say something like that?"

_Jess' death, Jess' death. Sam remembered his girlfriend's death. That meant-_

"Answer me, Dean! Why?" Sam said heatedly.

"Son of a bitch, Sam! Your memory's back!" Exclaimed the older man as he wrapped his arms tightly around Sam and hugged him.

Sam was confused. _What the hell? What is Dean doing and why was he so lovey-dovey all of a sudden?_ He hesitated before he awkwardly brought his hands up to Dean's back to return the hug. But two questions were really nagging his brain: When did he lose his memory and what the hell happened to him?

** Dean was pretty mean to Sam wasn't he? But now I feel bad for the guy and Sam! Next chapter up soon :) Comment:) BTW sorry if things don't make since or medical things are off: tired lol :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Sorry for taking so long to update. I like staying up late to write the chapters, but I had a track meet the other day and let me tell ya: those things can take the life outta ya. Also forgive all my mistakes because I'm tired. Since then, I've been wicked tired. But not tonight! So here's this chapter :) Enjoy!**

_The last time I trusted you I was nearly beaten to death by drunken dad. Nearly beaten to death. Beaten to death, beaten to death. Dad tried to kill me._

Sam vaguely recalled that night, but Dean remembered it perfectly. Sam was 17 and him, 21; he reminisced that he had to go to Bobby's to pick something up and how Sam was terrified that their dad would return from his daily trip to the bar…drunk and dangerous.

~+SPN+~

_ "Dean, no you can't leave me alone. Dad might-"_

_ "Dad will not come back, I promise. He usually gone for days in his drunken condition; I promise you he won't come back and he will not hurt you, alright?"_

_ "But Dean-"_

_ "No buts kid. You gotta trust me on this okay? Do you trust me?"_

_ Sam hesitated for a moment before sighing in resignation. "Yeah, I do."_

_ "Good. I'll be back tomorrow morning." Dean grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He looked back at Sam and sighed._

_ "He's not going to come back, Sammy. You'll be alright."_

_ "It's Sam…and I know," Sam smiled._

_ "Trust me."_

_ "I do."_

_ Dean smirked and in seconds, Sam could hear the loud roar of the Impala grow quieter and quieter with distance. He was all alone now._

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_ It might have been about five in the morning; Sam was sleeping peacefully and so far, John hadn't returned. Maybe Dean was right. Suddenly, through Sam light slumber, he heard the door lock click open; at first he thought it was Dean, but when the door was kicked open, he flinched. This was not Dean. His heart raced as he sat up. Dad was back…early._

_ "D-Dad, what are you doing here," Sam said, trying to sound braver than he felt._

_ John turned around and glared at his son with ice cold eyes._

_ "D'n talk t' me tha' way, boy," John slurred, getting closer to Sam's bed. _

_ Sam sat up straighter and cowered back into the headboard._

_ "Look a' you. You're a pa'hetic wimp. Why can' you be mo' like your bro'her?"_

_ "Why the hell do you always compare me to Dean? Why can't you just accept me for me? I want to be normal; I don't want to be a freak like you!"_

_ "Wha' did you jus' call me?"_

_ "A freak," Sam growled, getting out of bed and getting into his father's face. He could smell the beer emanating from his father's hot breath on his face, but he didn't care. He hated how he was _always_ compared to his older brother. The golden child._

_ While lost in his thought, he didn't notice the huge fist coming at him at a vast speed. Without warning, his dad's fist connected with his cheek and causing Sam to stumble back into the wall. He cradled his throbbing cheek as he looked at his dad in shock. Before he could do anything, another fist came hurling at him. Quickly, he dodged it, but he completely missed the boot that came up and struck him in the chin. He grunted as he fell to the ground; he barely had time to compose himself before the same boot came towards him again, kicking him in the chest and abdomen. He couldn't catch his breath; his dad was going to kill him._

_ "D-Dad, please! Y-you're h-hurting me! Pl-please!"_

_ "Stop cryin'! You're 17 years ol'. Suck it up an' be a man!"_

_ The kicking finally stopped and Sam prayed that it was all over. But he was wrong. His father flipped him onto his back and pinned him down. Without delay, John began punching him in the face; Sam could taste the blood in his mouth, and his vision was tunneling rapidly. He weakly attempted to push his dad off, but his limbs were becoming heavier and heavier by the second._

_ "Pathetic, weak, useless!"_

_ "D-Dad," Sam croaked. "Plea-please!"_

_ "Shut up!" John wrung his hands tightly around Sam's neck and squeezed._

_ "Da-" Sam gasped loudly, bringing his shaky hands up to his throat and feebly trying to scratch off the hands that were restricting his breathing, more or less stopping him from breathing. Darkness was beginning to take over him and his chest was starting to ache more than the rest if his abused body. If his dad kept this up, he was going to die soon._

_ "D-" his eyes soon began to flutter close, his breathing becoming slow and shallow. All of a sudden, before his world went completely black, he heard the door bust open and a faint voice shout "dad" and then his name. The hands were instantly pried off his sore neck and, now, he could somewhat breathe again. He heard someone call his name from far away but before he could find out who the voice belonged to, he fell into oblivion._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_ Dean had pulled into the motel as he finished stuffing his face with the breakfast burrito he picked up on the way back. He threw the trash into the backseat and wiped his hands on his pants; he was beat and he couldn't wait to go back inside and sleep for two weeks. He stepped out of the car and sighed, but as soon as he heard faint screaming coming from, none other than, their motel room, all thoughts of sleep and relaxation disappeared. The screaming sounded like it was coming from Sam and the only reason his brother would be screaming would be because…_

_ "Shit!" Dean muttered as he bolted to the door and dug in his pockets for the room key. That's when he realized he left it in the car…which was thirty feet away from him. He didn't have time for that. Instead, he started kicking at the door and on the third strike, the wooden door splintered and it swung open violently. As soon as he stepped inside, he was utterly shocked with the sight that was presented to him. He saw a severely bloodied and bruised Sam thrashing around on the floor, underneath his father who had his hands wrapped firmly around his younger brother's throat._

_ "Dad, get the hell off him!" Dean yelled running over and shoving his dad of Sam._

_ John grunted and stumbled away from the two. Without another sound, he ran out of the motel room. Dean watched his dad leave in disgust; he never should have left Sammy alone. Speaking of his brother, he turned to face the kid and nearly had a heart attack when he took in Sam's condition._

_ "Sam!" Dean yelled, kneeling down next to his brother. "Oh god, Sammy, I'm so sorry." His hands hovered shakily over his brother's face, but he was terrified that if he touched him, he'd cause more damage._

_ "Sam?" He choked out. _

_ The kid looked devastating…heartbreaking; Sam's face was black and purple with puffy bruises, his eyes practically swollen shut. Blood trickled out of his open mouth and, possibly, broken nose. Dark bruises shaped like his father's hands were already starting to develop on Sam's swollen neck._

_ "Dammit, Sammy, wake up!" The sound of his brother's breathing made him sick; it was too gradual, too shallow. "Fuck, Dad! What the hell did you do?" He pulled out his cell and hastily dialed 911; his brother's injuries weren't supernatural related so he figured it would be safe._

_ In about ten minutes, which was a complete blur, the paramedics came and wheeled, the almost unresponsive, Sam away. Dean felt so guilty; he would have killed himself if it weren't for Sam. He promised his brother that their dad wouldn't come home, he told Sam to _trust _him, and he did but look where that got him_. _He was going to live with this guilt for the rest of his life. He was never going to forget what pain he caused his little brother._

~+SPN+~

"Okay Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam said pulling away from his brother and frowning in confusion.

"You- you don't remember?"

"Remember what, Dean?"

Dean hesitated for a moment, not sure if he wanted to continue and tell Sam about everything that had happened; about everything he had said. It seemed that, thankfully, Sam remembered Jess dying and their hunts, but not the fight or the crash or the coma.

"Well, first off, what do you remember?"

"Not much…I think when we went to that really shitty restaurant and you got food poisoning."

"Sam that was- that was over three weeks ago. Are you sure that's all you remember?" Dean laughed nervously.

Sam shrugged and nodded as he yawned loudly.

_Well I guess it's better than losing eight years._

"So you don't remember how you got here or why?"

"Come on Dean, stop with the twenty questions and just tell me already."

"Are you sure you-"

"Yeah Dean, obviously I do. You said it yourself, I lost over three weeks!"

"Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a twist."

Sam rolled his eyes but remained silent. During the next fifteen minutes and thirty-two seconds, Dean explained everything that had happened; from start to finish. Well, mostly everything; he left out the part about both arguing situations, because Sam really didn't need to know about that just yet. Maybe not at all.

"Holy shit," Sam said after his older brother finished.

"Yeah. Holy shit indeed, kid," Dean smirked as he pat Sam's knee. Then he watched his brother's face suddenly turn from surprised to upset.

"What's wrong Sam?"

"I- did I say anything? I feel like I might have said something…you know, insensitive, because that was the old me and I was kind of a bitch back then."

Dean gulped nervously. Should he tell him? Was it really that important? Maybe he should just wait; yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Dean smiled forcefully, trying to relieve the tension in the room.

"What do you mean 'was'? You still are."

Sam looked at Dean with a serious expression and Dean sobered up.

"No…you- you didn't. You were just your usual stubborn little self."

"You're not holding back on me, are you?" Sam questioned suspiciously, sensing that Dean wasn't telling him the whole story.

'Trust me, Sammy I'm not, okay? You do trust me, right?"

Sam frowned. "Of course I do. Why would you think otherwise?"

"Never mind, just forget it."

Sam's eyebrows raised, but he decided to brush it off for the moment. Something was up with Dean, but he was too tired to be persistent.

"Well anyways, you should get some sleep, man. You look like shit."

"I could say the same for you, little bro; have you looked in the mirror lately?"

Sam scoffed as he rolled his eyes while slumping back into the pillows and yawning. Dean looked at his brother silently and awkwardly, thinking of something to say.

"You feel okay? Any pain or nausea, headaches?"

"Nah, I'm good. Just a little tired, but you should get something to eat; I can hear your stomach growling from a mile away."

"I'm not that-"

Sam glared at him.

"Yeah you're right. I'm starved. You'll be okay for a couple minutes?"

"Yes, Dean, I'll be fine," Sam chuckled. "You don't have to worry alright?"

"Okay, okay, just checkin'. I'll be right back."

Sam smiled faintly and nodded as he watched his brother leave the room. When Dean returned, though, with bunch of granola bars and jello cups, he stopped short in the doorway. He found his brother slumped in the pillows, staring off into space and a frown on his face like he was in deep thought. As Dean moved closer, he saw how pale his brother's face was and how his brown eyes glazed over. His breathing was rapid and hoarse. Something wasn't right

"Sam?" He said, standing right next to his unresponsive brother. "Sammy?" Dean's heart beat brutally against his chest as different thoughts flashed through his mind. What if something suddenly went wrong with his brain? What if he was having some sort of stroke or something?

"Sam!" He shouted fearfully, shaking his brother's shoulder harshly.

Immediately he got a response, Sam jerking out of his trace and flinching away from Dean.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy, dude. It's just me."

"Oh…sorry."

"Are you okay? You looked like you were in la-la-land for a moment there."

Sam took a shaky breath and looked down sheepishly at his trembling hands. Dean noticed this and his forehead creased. He sat down and placed his own hands on his brother's and squeezed them.

"What's wrong, Sam?"

"Nothing, I was just- I was just thinking."

"No shit Sherlock, that's pretty obvious. But what about?"

"I don't know I just- I keep getting clips of…stuff. They're playing in my head."

"Visions, maybe?"

"No…my head isn't hurting; it's more like…memories I guess?" Sam said looking up into Dean's eyes.

"Do you remember any of them?"

Sam sighed inwardly and looked away towards the window. "Not a lot…just parts."

"Like…"

"Like pain…and f-fire. There was also shouting…from you. You were yelling at me?"

Dean swallowed uneasily. Sam was getting closer to the truth.

"I think I also remember…you know what, never mind."

"What Sam?"

"It's stupid."

"No, I wanna know."

"I think I remember saying something but...I don't know, could you just tell me? I know you know, don't lie."

"Sam it's-"

"Please."

Dean huffed. _Well, I warned you Sammy._

"You- you brought up that night when dad tried to…you know, kill you. You blamed me and said you made a mistake trusting me."

"Dammit," Sam cursed. "Dean, you know I really don't blame you; it wasn't your fault."

"No it was my fault, Sammy and ever since you said that to me, I realized how badly I screwed up that night."

"Dean just stop, just-"

"Shut up, I'm tryin' to apologize here," Dean growled.

Sam pursed his lips as he heaved a sigh. "Fine."

"I never should have left you alone when I knew what dad could be capable of…drunk or sober. I assumed he would've stayed out and you'd be safe; I told you to trust me and you did. I almost got you killed, Sammy. Then and now."

Sam stared at Dean sadly before speaking. "Look Dean I'm not gonna blame you for what happened years ago. It was my fault as much as it was yours. I intimidated dad, whose worse when he's drunk, and maybe if I didn't bother him, maybe if I'd just left the motel room," Sam took a deep breath and shook his head. "Anyways, the point is, stop beating yourself over it. _I'm _telling you, that I don't blame you."

Dean smirked as he patted Sam shoulder. "Okay, if you say so. That was the one time I was gonna apologize, but…whatever."

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes. Of course his brother would say that.

"And Sam?"

"Yeah."

"If you ever scare the shit out of me like that again, I'll kill you. Understand?"

"Okay, whatever you say…jerk."

Dean grinned. Sam was coming back to his usual self. In no time at all, they'd be back on the road together, hunting as many sons of bitches that they could. He loved his brother and hated it when something bad happened to him. Of course he would never tell Sam that, but Sam probably already knew that anyways. Now Sam was alive and back to his normal pain-in-the-ass self and Dean couldn't ask for more. "Bitch."

Sam smiled before it was broken by the large yawn Sam released. His eyelids started to dip and his body relaxed into the pillows.

"Get some sleep buddy, alright?" But Dean wasn't sure Sam even heard him, because the kid was already out like a light, his soft snores filling the room.

"Haha, typical Sammy," Dean laughed as he instinctively brushed Sam's bangs back before sitting back in the chair and closing his eyes. Time to catch up on some much needed rest.

**Should I end here or make an epilogue? Your choice! If no epilogue is wanted by a large amount of reviewers I just wanna say thanks for reading, favoriting, and alerting my story. Also thanks for all the wonderful reviews you've given me. Hopefully I can think of another Supernatural fanfiction to start writing and if I do, you know where to look! Thanks :)**

** Don't forget: no epilogue or yes epilogue :) And reviews lol **


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**(Epilogue)**

**Well you wanted it, and you got it :) here's the epilogue/chapter 12 :) Hope you like it and don't forget to comment, enjoy! And just so you know, **_**bold italic **_**is Dean's thoughts in his nightmare. Oh and btw, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that Sam is about 27 now? If not, sorry for my mistake and any other mistakes I made. Once again, lol, enjoy! :)**

Dean watched his brother breath in and out. He genuinely had tried to sleep, but was too shaken by the recent nightmare that he had. Dean wiped his nose on his sleeve and sniffed; he couldn't stop thinking about that nightmare and how real it was. Maybe it was so real, because some of it actually happened.

~+SPN+~

_**10 years ago**_

_"Oh god, Sammy, I'm so sorry." Dean sniffed and washed a shaky hand down his haggard face. _

_ He watched his brother's chest rise and fall, but only with the help of a fucking ventilator. Sam's throat had been severely swollen, causing his windpipe to close up; to stop breathing. His father had almost killed Sam for god sake! Dean didn't care if John was sober or drunk as an Irishman on a Friday night; he hated the bastard to the point where he was about ready to kill him. How could he do this to his own blood; his own son? If only he'd let Sam come along with him to Bobby's, if only he suggested that Sam go somewhere else for the night just in case. If only…_

_ Underneath all the bruises and swelling, Sam's face was completely unrecognizable. Purple, black, yellow, just a rainbow of colors was what made up Sam's face. Dean felt sick to stomach to think that his own father had done this. The man who he trusted and looked up to had done this to his little brother who was barely hanging on to life._

_ "I can't believe- why would dad- that fuckin' Sonofabitch!" Dean stood up and kicked the leg of his chair. He paced the room, his hands on his head and his jaw clenched tightly. He was fuming with rage and he could barely contain it. He was pissed at his dad, he was pissed at himself, and he was pissed at Bobby, too. If the guy never asked Dean to come pick something up in the first place, he could've prevented this whole incident from happening. He ran both hands down his face and took a deep breath. He swore he was going to lash out on somebody soon, but he really didn't need to be kicked out of the hospital, or worse thrown in jail. Sam needed him. Dean went to go sit back down and gently ran his hand through Sam's long curly hair. _

_ Dean smirked and chuckled faintly. "You're gonna need a haircut soon, buddy, or you'll be able to start mopping floors with your head." His smile disappeared though, the joke not being very effective since Sam couldn't give him his familiar bitch-face and a lame comeback._

_ "You gotta pull through this, Sammy…for me, alright? You won't have to ever be near dad again, you can even go to college and forget about the bastard. Just don't forget about me…and don't even think about giving up or I swear to god…" Dean lightly traced Sam's jaw before encasing the kid's hands tightly in his own. Just at that moment, he let the dam break; salty tears streamed down his cheeks. His brother was so battered and broken, because of his mistake; his stupid, fucking, careless mistake._

_ "I'm gonna be here for you all the way, kid. Just keep fightin' and you'll be able to go to college like you've always wanted."_

That's when the nightmare started…

_ Suddenly, the machines went haywire. In mere seconds, the heart monitor went flat and Dean jumped up in panic. He looked at Sam's chest again; it had stopped moving._

_**What the hell? This never happened, did it? **_

___Then, before Dean could process what was happening, Sam's dead body was wheeled out by nurses that Dean didn't even realize had come in. _

_**Sam! No, he can't be dead, this isn't right. This isn't how it happened!**_

_ "Dean."_

_ Dean turned and saw right in front of him…Sam._

_ "Sammy?"_

_ "This is your fault, Dean. Why did you leave me?"_

_ "I'm sorry, Sammy, I'm so sorry. If I could go back and change everything, I would."_

_ "Well, it's too late. You left me to die, Dean. You killed me as much as dad did. You killed me Dean!"_

_ "No, I swear I didn't know Sammy, just-" __**Why was this happening? Sam never died, and he never accused him. He never heard this much hate in his brother's voice before.**_

_ "Stop calling me 'Sammy' Dean, I'm not a fucking 12-year old. And because of you I'm dead."_

_ "Sam, I'm sorry."_

_ I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sammy. Sam!" Dean jerked up, his breathing rapid and harsh; he looked around the dimly lit room and saw that he was back at the hospital. He quickly brought his gaze straight to Sam's chest. He placed a trembling hand on the kid's chest and let out a sigh of relief when he felt it rise underneath his chest. It surprised him that Sam slept through his nightmare plagued shouts, but was thankful for that, so he wouldn't have to come up with an excuse as to why he was touching him like that. And that's what brought him to this exact moment: keeping a watchful eye on Sam's breathing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam's eyes fluttered open groggily, only to be welcomed to a dark room. _Where the hell was he?_ Then he could smell the antiseptic and hear the monitors beeping around him. _The damn hospital. Fuck._ He took a deep breath, only to result in a coughing fit.

"Hey, hey, Sam take it easy, alright?"

_That voice; it sounded so familiar. But who did it belong to and who had a death-grip on his hand? There was only one way to find out._ Sam rolled his head to the left and came face to face with Dean. His brother was so close to him that he nearly made Sam jump out of his skin.

"Dean! Son of a bitch, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry, Sammy, that wasn't what I was going for," Dean chuckled at the annoyed bitch face his brother gave him.

"What were you-" Sam stopped and looked at his older brother closely.

"What?"

Sam frowned. "Were you…crying?"

"What? No! Why would you say that?" Dean said defensively.

"Cause your face is damp and your eyes are red."

They were? When did he end up crying? Probably that friggin' nightmare, he didn't even notice it until now. He looked up at his brother who was anxiously awaiting an answer.

"Dean."

"No, must be allergies," Dean said, grinning for good measure.

"You don't have any, Dean. Now, could you just tell me the truth?"

Dean heaved a sigh as he looked at his brother's big puppy dog eyes. There was no way he could get past that. He couldn't believe the kid could still have that effect on him. _Damn you Sam._

"It- it was nothing. It was just a bad dream, alright?"

"Well, it must have been really bad to make you look like that."

"Nah, just a normal nightmare."

"Ha! Our nightmares are _never_ normal, Dean. Stop beating around the bush and just tell me what's up, okay?"

Dean sighed. Sam was never gonna let this go; might as well get this over with.

"What was it about, Dean?"

"It- the night you were in the hospital after dad tried to kill you, only…"

"Only what?" Sam urged.

"It didn't- it didn't end as it usually did."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've had this nightmare before and it never ended the way it did. Only this time…you died." Dean paused and looked up at his brother, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, he continued.

"You died right in front of me and I didn't even notice until it was too late. Then, you came…your ghost-ish form, that is, and you blamed me for killing you…more than dad. And I don't blame you," Dean finished off in a mutter.

"Dean, I told you this before: I don't blame you, okay? It was just a nightmare, messing with your head. You've been through enough this past week; you don't need to have a stupid meaningless nightmare on your conscience. Believe me when I say this, you're my brother and I'd do anything for you, but you sometimes can't seem to get things through your thick skull. I don't blame you; that should be enough."

Dean sighed. "Your right, Sammy, I believe you."

"Good…now can you please help me up before I piss all over the bed," Sam said, weakly throwing the sheets off of him.

Dean laughed genuinely for the first time in days. He firmly grabbed Sam's elbow and helped the Sasquatch out of bed. When Sam's feet touched the floor, though, his knees buckled. He would have been plunging face first into the ground if it weren't for Dean, who held him up securely.

"Take it one step at a time, Sammy. Just take it easy."

Sam nodded and breathed heavily. By the time the two made it to the bathroom, Sam regained most of the strength in his legs and shooed his older brother off.

"I think I'm good from here, Dean," smiled Sam.

"Are you sure you don't need your ass wiped?" Joked Dean.

"Shut up, jerk," Sam said getting ready to shut the door.

Dean grinned as he watched his younger brother disappear behind the door.

"Bitch."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_**1 Week Later**_

"Finally! I don't know how much longer I could've lasted in that hell hole. Watching you sleep is sooooo boring," Dean breathed as he pushed his brother, who was in a wheelchair, out of the hospital. It took much arguing and some idle threats to get him to leave in it, but eventually Sam got tired of yelling and gave in.

"Hey, no one was forcing you to stay, more or less, watch me like a vulture. That's real creepy, by the way, Dean."

"There was nothing else to do!"

"I'm sure there were plenty of hot nurses to hit on, Dean. Surprisingly, not once, when I was awake, did I see you come close to one. Why's that? Did you already get every single one of their numbers when I was out?"

"No," Dean snapped.

Sam turned around in the seat and raised his brows at his older brother.

"Maybe."

"That's what I thought," grinned Sam.

"Shut your cake-hole; you probably would've done the same thing…wait never mind, I forgot you're a total geek! You'd probably bore them to death with some science shit."

"Whatever," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

When the two finally reached the entrance, both guys squinted at the blinding sun. They haven't been outside in forever, and the bright light was burning out their retinas.

"Ah! It burns, it's so bright! My eyes, my eyes!"

"Stop being overly dramatic, Dean. It's just the sun."

Dean scowled. "I knew that."

"Sure."

The two finally reached the waiting taxi, since Dean still didn't have his beloved Impala. Dean helped Sam out of the chair and into the vehicle. Once Dean gave the wheelchair back to the nurse and climbed into the car, the taxi took off, bound for Bobby's.

Not even ten minutes in, Dean looked over to his brother to say something. He couldn't stand silence.

"So I was thinking, Sammy, that we-" but he stopped in midsentence when he saw his brother. Sam was out cold, his forehead plastered against the window and his breath fogging up the glass. His forehead was creased, more in pain than in thought, and his arms were wrapped protectively around his midriff; the stab wound. Dean figured that the stab wound was causing him some discomfort, but once they got to Bobby's he'd give the kid a cocktail of drugs, _way _more than the hospital gave him. Dean smiled sadly and sighed; the kid was still exhausted even though he'd practically been bedridden for the past week and a half.

"Never mind," Dean pat brother's knee then turned around to look out the window.

~+SPN+~

"Sam. Sammy. Sam!"

"Huh? Wha'?" Sam jolted awake, blinking sleepily at his surroundings. "Where are we?"

"Bobby's. Can you get out?"

"Yeah, I think I got it."

Dean nodded and paid the cab driver. He was surprised when he saw Sam already hobbling towards the entrance to Bobby's place without trouble. He caught up to him, standing close in case the kid decided to take a nose-dive.

"Boys! It's about time you get here. What took you so long?" Exclaimed Bobby as he saw the two younger men at his doorstep.

"Bit of a long story," chuckled Dean as he and Sam stepped into the house.

"I don't wanna know. So, you boys up for some beer?"

"Normally, Bobby, I would kill for some, but right now I'm beat. I bet I could speak for Sam, too, when I say that."

Bobby smiled and nodded. "You know where to go, then… idgit."

Dean smiled and turned to face his younger brother, but he wasn't there.

"Sam?" Dean frowned as he briskly walked through the hallways, looking for his little brother. "Sam!" Damn that kid was fast. He was like a five year old wandering off at a zoo. When Dean reached the spare room, he sighed in relief. Guess he didn't need the pills. Sam was face first into the pillows, snoring up a storm. His little brother was so spent, that he hadn't even bothered to remove his boots.

Dean snorted in amusement as he went over and helped Sam get comfortable. He took off Sam's jacket and boots, then immediately after, bringing the covers up over Sam's shoulders and to his chin. Sam sighed in content, relieved that he could finally relax. Dean watched Sam sleep for a moment. The kid had grown, almost to the point where Dean felt his brother could take care of himself…but he'd never be able to stop watching out for his little brother. He couldn't hold back the mother-hen in him; ever since he carried Sam out of the fire, he knew his job was to keep Sam safe and alive. Sometimes he would screw up, but he always fixed it and managed to get him and Sam back on his feet. He brushed the sweaty bangs off of Sam's forehead and smiled.

"Night, Sammy."

"Quit c-calling me 'Sammy'" Sam croaked without opening his eyes.

Dean smirked. "Sorry, force of habit."

"Ha, sure…thanks, Dean…for everything."

"Hey, no chick-flick moments, remember?"

"Yeah…force of habit."

"Yeah, okay…your welcome." Dean saw a quick twitch of the corner of Sam's mouth before the kid drifted off into a deep slumber.

Now it was his turn to sleep for a week, drink some beer, and maybe in a month or so, kick some supernatural ass. After, somehow, getting his baby fixed. Damn he sure missed his car.

**The End**

**Ending was kinda sucky, but I wanted to get it update a.s.a.p. and I couldn't think of any other way to end it, so sorry if it's bad. Sooooo thanks for reading CRASH; reviewing, alerting, favoriting, etc. Annnd I already have another story in mind :) "Dare Gone Wrong." Hope you stick around to read it! Thanks again my awesome readers and don't forget to comment :) – Luv McGeeklover**


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